ILIBRAEY OF CONGRESS. 

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! UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 



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FIELD FLOWERS. 



BY 

JULIA M. SWIFT. 







PHILADELPHIA: 
CLAXTON, KEMSEN & HAFFELFINGEE. 

1872. 



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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 

CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELIINGER, 

in 4iie OflBce of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 

8TEBE0TTPED Bl J. PAGAN & SOX, PHILADELPHIA. 




^diratiou. 



THIS small bouquet of woodland flowers, 
I 've culled for you in leisure hours, 
From shady glen and sunny field, 
I fondly hope may pleasure yield. 
No brilliant flowers of culture rare. 
The gardener's pride and joy, are there; 
Nor bright exotics' rich perftime ; 
Nought but buds of humble bloom 
Compose the little wreath I 've twined 
Fresh from the woodland of my mind. 
Oh, do not, with a glance of pride. 
The little garland cast aside. 
As all unworthy of a place, 
And quite unfit your bowers to grace ; 



Vlll DEDICATION. 

But with a gentle smile receive 
The very little I can give. 
Accept it, then, and may it prove 
A messenger of peace and love ; 
A token, that through life you '11 meet, 
Where'er you wander, flowers sweet ; 
Rejoicing with their lovely bloom, 
Refreshing with their sweet perfume. 
Until we meet in heaven's bowers. 
And revel there 'mid fadeless flowers, 








^p^^^^w-0 



PAOB 

Hope 13 

Home 15 

First Love 16 

The Photograph 17 

To Louie G 18 

To AN Absent Friend 19 

Jessie 20 

We Think of Thee — Answer to "Do They Think 

OF Me at Home?" 22 

Spring has come 24 

To Lottie 26 

To Dill . .28 

The Little Cottage Home 29 

Mother 32 

Sing me to Sleep 33 

Call me Tender Names 34 

The Angel of my Dreams 35 

Do They Dream of Me? 37 

ix 



X CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Her Smile 38 

Sister May 39 

The Secret 41 

The Patch-work Quilt 42 

The Faded Eibbon 46 

The Young Poetess 48 

Ever at the Twilight Hour 50 

Tell Me that You Love Me 51 

No Letter yet 53 

Sing me those Beautiful Lays 54 

The Lieutenant 55 

Sink to Eest calmly 56 

Before the War 57 

Grieve not, Love 59 

Write soon ^^ 

The Bridal Day 62 

To Lottie 64 

Welcome Home 66 

Affection 67 

Peerless Virgin 68 

Twenty-One . 70 

Vesper Hymn 71 

May Hymn 72 

The Reason Why 73 

There's many an Empty Cradle .... 75 

Dreams of Youth 77 

The Past 79 

Lines 80 

Shaking Honorably 81 



CONTENTS. XI 

PAGE 

The Withered Flowees . . ^ . . . .82 

The Snow 84 

The Ki8S Kef used 87 

The Angel in the Cloud 90 

Sympathy 91 

The Dream in the Arm-Chair 92 

That Name 94 

Maggie's Birthday 95 

Little Frank is now a Spirit 96 

The Miniature 97 

Little Children 99 

The First-born 101 

To Frank in Heaven 103 

I KNOW MY Babe is Happy 104 

The Sleeping Child 106 

To MY Baby 108 

The Angel's Invitation 109 

My Jewels Ill 

Frank is Dead 112 

Where is the Baby? 114 

Apprehension 115 

The Strongest Tie that bound my Heart . . 116 

I MISS Thee . .118 

The Lady of the Haunted Dell .... 119 

The Sailor-Boy's Dream 124 

A Noon-Day Picture 128 

Lent, not Given 133 

Lost Maggie 134 

Legend of Sister Genevieve 141 



Xll CONTENTS. 

PAOG 

Louie's Ninth Birthday 152 

The Smile 153 

The Old Clock 154 

The Past and the Present 157 

Watching the Eain 158 

Eagged Little Joe 160 

I dreamed we were young again .... 162 
The Reformed Drunkard's Child . . . .164 

Memory's Graves 165 

A Portrait 167 

" Only me ! " 169 

Eetrospection 171 

Leaving School 173 

Darling 175 

Suppose 177 

Bubbles . 179 

Blue Violets ISI 

Drifted ' . . .183 

The Sailor's Story 185 

When! 192 

Two Years Old To-day 193 

Three Years Old To-day 194 

Good-Bye 196 




FIELD FLOWERS. 



HOPE. 



HOPE ! thou bright, enchanting creature ! 
Glorious in form and feature; 
Art thou unto mortals given 
To make this wretched earth a heaven ? 
Hair like golden sunbeams gleaming 
O'er thy snowy shoulders streaming, 
Like the golden mists of morning, . 
All restraint of freedom scorning. 
Lustrous eyes so sweetly tender, 
Seem like living wells of splendor. 
Softly beautifully blue — 
Outrivalling the heaven's hue. 
Upraised finger pointing high 
To realms of light beyond the sky — 
2 13 



14 FIELD FLOWERS. 

While thy sweet, seraphic smile 
Earthly sorrows would beguile. 
Gilding darkest clouds with light, 
Painting earth in colors bright ; 
Turning dross to brightest gold. 
Hidden treasures dost unfold. 
At thy sweet, inspiring voice 
Every mortal must rejoice, 
And all, who thy commands obey 
Are ever cheerful, bright, and gay. 
E'en in spite of present sorrow, 
Looking for a brighter morrow. 
Thou dost line the clouds with light, 
Mak'st all times and seasons bright. 
Winning mortals but to bless them. 
Tenderly dost thou caress them. 
Thou, a boon to earth art given. 
Leading weary souls to heaven ! 





HOME. 

A HAPPY home, oh ! can a sweeter thought 
Replete with more significance be fraught? 
A refuge dear, from all the world apart. 
Where mind communes with mind, and heart with 

heart ! 
On all the earth, one little spot of ground 
Where truest pleasures only can be found ; 
In this dear place no bitterness should come, 
But happiness alone should rule " our home " ! 

Nor should contention, discord, enter there, 
But all be bright, harmonious, and fair. 
" Love " is the spirit that should e'er preside. 
And " reason " all our thoughts and actions guide ; 
Contentment, smiling at our board should sit, 
" Good humor," seasoned with a " spice of wit." 
Then through the day where'er our feet shall roam, 
The heart should ever fondly turn "to home." 

15 



16 FIELD F LOWERS. 

And pleasant smiles should ever wreathe the face, 

And beautify that dear and sacred 'place. 

Our rule, forbearance, toleration just, 

Implicit confidence and mutual trust. 

Oh ! what a paradise on earth would prove 

A home thus blessed with fond domestic love. 

No matter, then, how humble be the dome. 

The sweetest spot on earth will be " our home." 



FIRST LOVE. 



OH, early love ! how pure thou art, 
How innocent and chaste. 
Thy first impressions on the heart 

Can never be efiaced. 
From passion and its stains refined, 

No thoughts of self intrude. 
It elevates the earthly mind 
To heaven's beatitude. 

A little bud its leaves unclose 

To greet the morning dew. 
How rich and bright its beauty glows ! 

How charming to the view ! 
It opens wide its petals fair, 

Tlie morning sun to greet, 
Distilling on the balmy air 

Its odor soft and sweet. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 17 

Like this sweet bud so fresh and pure, 

This beauteous opening rose, 
First love can e'er the heart allure 

With power that ever grows, 
And though the mid-day sun may kiss 

Bright flowers of richer hue. 
Yet none can ever equal this. 

So pure, so fond, so true ! 



THE PHOTOGRAPH. 

HOW truly is thy gentle form, 
And earnest face portrayed ! 
Methinks I trace the heart so warm, 

In glowing charms arrayed. 
Thy wondrous eyes speak into mine 

A language of their own. 
And clinging memories fondly twine. 
And breathe in loving tone ! 

Again, and still again, I look 

Upon that face so fair. 
And read, as in an open book, 

The language written there. 
Each fresh perusal seems to bring 

New beauties to thy cheek, 
2* B 



18 FIELD FLOWEES. 

Thy arching lips seem opening, 
As though about to speak. 

With eyes upon thy picture cast, 

How fondly thrills my soul ; 
With memories of the happy past 

No future may control. 
For though long years may onward glide 

And find us still apart, 
Fond memory brings thee to my side, 

Thy picture 's in my heart. 



TO LOUIE G. 



DEAR Lou, how bright thy future seems: 
Loving hearts keep vigil o'er thee. 
Joyous sunshine brightly streams 

Along the path of life before thee. 
Pleasure seems to strew the way 

With the freshest flowers of morning ; 
Life appears a summer day, 

Bright and beautiful its dawning ! 

Friendship warm, and love so true, 

Ever fondly walk beside thee. 
Breathing earnest prayer for " Lou"! 

Wishing all good things betide tliee; 



FIELD FLOWERS. ' 19 

Shielding thee from every care, 

Warding off all shade of sorrow ; 
Joy awaits thee everywhere, 

Brightly dawns each coming morrow. 

Yet, dear Lou, the world is not 

All our hearts would fondly covet, 
But ofttimes a dreary spot, 

Nor too fondly should we love it. 
Earthly pleasures may decay. 

And all withered soon be lying, 
Brightest joys may pass away 

Leaving but the pangs of dying. 



TO AN ABSENT FRIEND. 

THOUGH boundless seas between us roll 
And keep us weary years apart. 
Thou art not absent, for my soul 

Treasures thine image, and my heart 
In every throb thy name repeats. 
Ah ! memory's spell 
Awakes too well 
The echoes as it beats ! 

Thou art not absent ; every thought 
Is thine alone ; thou 'rt still with me. 



20 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Affection's eye, by memory taught, 

Looks back into my heart on thee ; 
In sleep, a voice, ah ! not unknown, 
My pillow seeks, 
'Tis memory speaks, 
That voice ! it is thine own ! 

Thou still art near me as of yore, 

Thy hand doth fondly clasp my own, 
Thy eye doth gaze in mine once more, 

I hear again thy low, sweet tone. 
Again thy face I plainly see ; 
My heart doth thrill 
Too wildly still 
For thee and only thee ! 



JESSIE. 



SWEET Jessie is the fairest of the maidens on 
the green, 
Her tresses are the rarest ever glossed with silken 

sheen. 
Rippling o'er her dimpled shoulders in waves of 

deepest night. 
They seem to all beholders ever dancing with de- 
light. 



FIELD FLOWEKS. 21 

Her black eyes beam the brightest, so flashing is 

their glance ; 
Her graceful form the lightest in all the mazy dance ; 
Her voice so clear and thrilling is sweetest of the 

throng — 
Each heart with rapture filling as it gushes into 

song. 

Like a sunbeam bright her presence gilds every 

place with light, 
For she seems the very essence of everything most 

bright, 
I seem with rapture laden when I am by her side, 
For this beauteous little maiden I am wooing for my 

bride. 

More fondly do I prize her than treasures vast 

untold. 
More than avaricious miser his wealth of hoarded 

gold; 
For Jessie is a treasure worth all the world beside. 
And I love her beyond measure, my bonny little 

bride. 

No trouble can appall me, with little Jessie near, 
Whatever may befall me, her loving smile will cheer ; 
My fate will be the brightest, the happiest in life. 
My heart will be the lightest, when Jessie is my wife. 




WE THINK OF THEE. 

ANSWER TO 

"DO THEY THINK OF ME AT HOME?" 

WE think of thee, oh, sister dear ! 
At morning, noon, and eve. 
Thy absence causeth many a tear 
From hearts that sadly grieve. 
We miss thee from our merry sport 

In all our mirth and glee. 
But Avhen with grief our lot is fraught, 
Then most we think of thee. 

Dear mother, with her placid brow. 

And lovely, rippling hair, 
Is sitting thinking of thee now 

Within her easy-chair. 
The same old chair we loved so well. 

From childhood's earliest day, 

22 



FIELD FLOWERS. 23 

We sought her there our griefs to tell, 
Or joys, from school or play. 

And when that loving, gentle hand 

Our hair would fondly smooth. 
More potent far than magic wand. 

Each childish care 't would soothe. 
Still, darling sister, would it fain 

In benediction spread. 
Be pressed caressingly again 

On thy bright golden head. 

Our father, with majestic form. 

And locks now white as snow. 
Doth cherish thee with love as warm 

As in the " long ago " ; 
And when, each evening he returns, 

We gather by his side. 
Oh, then we know his fond heart yearns 

For thee, his pet and pride. 

Thy " harp " doth know no stranger touch, 

But stands, a " sacred thing," 
The songs you sang, we prize too much 

To hear another sing. 
And he who won thee from our side, 

And bore thee o'er the sea. 
Who claims thee now his cherished bride, 

We 've learned to love for " thee." 



24 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Then let thy loving heart rejoice, 

Nor feel one anxious thrill, 
For memory, with sweetest voice, 

Recalls thee fondly still. 
And constantly we pray for thee, 

Across the ocean's foam, 
Let this sweet thought thy comfort be, 

" We think of thee at home." 



SPRING HAS COME. 

SPRING has come, oh ! Spring has come, 
Hear her merry, busy hum ! 
See the lovely buds and floAvers 
Bursting forth in vernal bowers ; 
See the sky, whose lovely hue 
Seems of misty, dreamy blue, 
Flecked by cloudlets soft and white. 
Like angelic pinions bright — 
Floating in the azure dome, 
Softly breathing, Spring has come ! 

See the merry streamlet dance, 
Through the fields and meadows glance, 
Babbling all the livelong day. 
Glad to 'scape from Winter's sway. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 25 

Every bush and bough is seen 
Clothed in leaves of tend'rest green, 
While the tall and stately trees 
Bow their heads to woo the breeze. 
From the genial South it springs, 
Bearing perfume on its wings, 
Whispering oft the sweet refrain. 
Gentle Spring has come again. 

Nature's carpet now unrolls 
(Over valleys, hills, and knolls), 
Richer far than Persian looms. 
Redolent with sweet perfumes. 
Violets now peep their heads 
From their green and mossy beds. 
Every drop of glistening dew 
Now reflects a rainbow's hue. 
All the air 's instinct with life. 
With melodious music rife ; 

Bees are humming on the breeze ; 
Birds are twittering in the trees, 
Building nests the livelong day, 
Piping now and then a lay ; 
Insects, birds, and flowers rejoice 
To welcome Spring with merry voice; 
Nature joins the joyful strain. 
Gentle Spring has come again. 
3 




TO LOTTIE. 

BEAUTEOUS is each glittering gem 
Sparkling in night's diadem, 
Yet their radiant midnight splendor 
Beams not half so sweetly tender 
As thy dark, soul-speaking eyes, 
Where a misty shadow lies. 
Half revealing, half disclosing, 
Sweet emotions there reposing. 



Beauteous is the unsunned snow 
Sleeping on the mountain's brow, 
When the moonlight's placid rays 
O'er its pure white surface plays. 
Unsullied and from taint all free, 
Emblem of sweet purity, 
Not less fair than mountain snow 
Is thy fair and lovely brow. 



26 



FIELD FLOWERS. 27 

Beauteous is the blushing rose 
When first its glowing charms unclose, — 
So rich its tint, so bright its hue, 
Bursting on the enraptured view ; 
We gaze delighted on the flower, 
Acknowledging its wondrous power, 
But after all it faintly speaks 
The glowing beauty of thy cheeks. 

Beauteous is the raven's wing 
When the sunbeams o'er it fling, 
Reflecting all its radiant light 
In colors beautifully bright. 
Yet the glossiest, silkiest sheen 
On raven's wing that e'er was seen 
Only faintly may compare 
With thy waves of jetty hair. 

Sweet are music's rhythmic chin\es, 
Mingling with the poet's rhymes, 
Dearer far the sweet refrains 
Of woodland notes o'er hill and plains ; 
Sweet the song on moonlit waters 
Warbled by Italia's daughters, 
Yet sweeter, dearer far the choice 
Of all to me is Lottie's voice. 

She is lovely as the dawning 

Of a beauteous May-day morning. 



28 FIELD FLOWERS, 

Lovely as the close of even, 
Radiant as the dews of heaven. 
Her virtues like rare perfumes stealing, 
Grace of mind and heart revealing, 
Far above all poet's measure, 
Heaven's best and rarest treasure. 



TO DILL. 



I'M thinking of thee now, Dill, 
I 'm thinking of thee now ; 
I long for thy soft, loving hand 
Upon my aching brow. 

I 'm thinking of thee now, Dill, 
Far more than words can speak, 

I seem to feel thy fond caress, 
And sweet breath on my cheek. 

I 'm thinking of thee now, Dill, 

In spirit now I hear 
Thy low and gentle voice, love. 

Fall softly on my ear. 

I 'm thinking of thee now, Dill, 
And of thy loving heart, 

That by its ready sympathy 
Could ever balm impart. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 29 

I 'm thinking of thee now, Dill, 

On memory's wings I flee 
To those halcyon days of " long ago," 

So dear to you and me. 

I'm thinking of thee now, Dill, 
Though time has changed us both ; 

Yet time nor absence e'er could change 
My constancy and truth. 



THE LITTLE COTTAGE HOME ! 

I AM dreaming, sweetly dreaming, of the happy 
days of yore. 
And I see the maples' shadows, flick'ring round the 

cottage-door. 
See my mother's face so smiling, full of love and 

tenderness, 
Every childish grief beguiling, with her magic power 
to bless. 

I am dreaming, only dreaming, for I see my father 

stand. 
Resting 'neath the maple shadows, and his scythe 

within his hand, 

3* 



30 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Sun-embrowned his face, and ruddy, while the fin- 
gers of the air, 

Gently lifted from his forehead, locks of dark and 
glossy hair. 

Now I see the smiling meadows, and the corn-fields 
waving high, 

While the streamlet clear reflected, hill, and grove, 
and soft blue sky ; 

See my little sister playing, through the lovely Sum- 
mer hours. 

With her snowy apron laden with its wealth of wild- 
. wood flowers. 

See the dark and silken lashes resting on each rosy 

cheek, 
And beneath the merry flashes, tender thoughts their 

glances speak ; 
Golden sunbeams through the maples, rifts of glory 

o'er her shed. 
As she twines her flowers in garlands, crowning now 

her pretty head. 

Little sister now is sleeping where the brightest 

flowers bloom 
O'er her green bed in the valley, wafting sweetly 

their perfume. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 31 

And we sadly wept above her, as we left her there to 

rest, 
Dimpled fingers meekly folded, calmly on her gentle 

breast. 

Darling Nellie, with the angels, sweetest songs of 

triumph sings. 
Through the glowing clouds of sunset, oft we saw 

her shining wings. 
Then my stricken-hearted mother closed fore'er her 

eyes so mild. 
Laying down life's weary burden, to join her little 

child. 

Father nobly bore his sorrows, till old age ujDon him 

crept. 
Then, beside his earthly treasures, calmly laid him 

down and slept. 
Yet hope whispered of a country, of a bright abode 

of bliss, 
Where God gives sweet compensation for the trials 

borne in this. 

Kow the cottage is deserted, still the maple shadows 
fall, 

As they once so lightly flickered, on the ruined cot- 
tage wall. 



32 FIELD FLOWERS. 

I am aged, bent and hoary, o'er the weary world 1 
roam, 

Yet I 'm dreaming, often dreaming, of my little cot- 
tage home ! 



MOTHER! 



MOTHER ! oh, what is the spell 
That lurks in that dear word ? 
By which the deepest, holiest cell 

Within the heart is stirred. 
Like waves of music doth it roll, 

In sweetness rich and rare, 
Awaking echoes in the soul, 
And thrilling on the air. 

When roaming far in distant lands 

A stranger, sad and ill. 
How oft the thought of Mother's hands 

Has sent a tender thrill. 
Which caused the weary, aching heart 

With sudden joy to leap, — 
And oft th' unbidden tear would start 

From eyes unused to weep. 

A Mother's influence hath been 
The potent secret charm, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 33 

That kept the tempted soul from sin. 

And shielded it from harm. 
Her gentle smile steals o'er the heart 

Like sunshine clear and bright. 
Its tender love doth there impart 

A pure and sweet delight 

O Mother ! words can ill express 

How fervent, strong, and pure 
Thy love, which ever seeks to bless. 

And everything endure ; 
And stronger grows as trials come. 

And sorrow's waves roll o'er us, 
That love will shine throughout the gloom, 

A radiant star before us. 



SING ME TO SLEER 

SING me to sleep, dearest ; darkness is here, 
Shrouding my spirit in sadness and fear ; 
Yet thy sweet song tender soothing can bring, ^ 
Dispelling the shadows : beloved, then sing ! 
Sing me to sleep by some low gentle strain, 
JLuUing to rest all my heartache and pain ; 
Sad retrospections around me do cling, 
Mockingly, tauntingly : darling, then siiig ! 



34 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Sing me to sleep, love ; my world-weary mind 
In some tender ballad sweet soothing will find : 
Kobbing the past of its bitterest sting, 
Gilding with brightness the present : then sing ! 
Sing, little birdie! so cherished and dear, 
Perch close beside me, so lovingly near : 
Winter will vanish, and flowers will spring, 
At sound of thy melody : dear one, then sing ! 



CALL ME TENDER NAMES. 

OCALL me tender names, love, 
My sad heart longs to hear, 
Fond words of endearment 

Sweetly greet my ear. 
Speak in gentle tones, love, 
A pleasure they impart. 
And satisfy the yearning 
That lingers in my heart. 

O give me sweet caresses. 
And gentle, loving smiles, 

Methinks no other earthly joy 
So soon life's care beguiles. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 35 

Oh I would deem it bliss, love, 
To hear thee say, " Mine own ! " 

With all the heartfelt fervor 
Of love's impassioned tone. 

My heart doth ever sigh, love, 

For some responsive token, 
A fond glance of thine eye, love. 

Or thrilling words, low spoken, 
Just as some parching flower, love, 

By dews refreshed would be. 
So would my heart to hear, love, 

Fond, tender names from thee ! 



THE ANGEL OF MY DREAMS. 

WHEN slumber Aveaves her subtle spell. 
And binds all waking thought, 
A vision fair with me doth dwell. 

With radiant beauty fraught ; 
Soft, holy eyes, like wells of light. 

Gaze wistfully in mine. 
And flowing tresses, dark as night, 

The spotless brow enshrine. 
Those deep, unfathomable eyes 

Emit such tender rays. 



36 FIELD FLOWERS. 

And seem to shrine sweet mysteries, 

Too pure for mortal gaze. 
With mystic power they bind my soul, 

Absorb each sense in bliss, 
I bow me to their sweet control, 

I 'd dream fore'er like this. 
A lovely smile the sweet lips part 

With such celestial grace, 
A language speaking to my heart 

No time can e'er efface. 
Although no uttered word I hear, 

The softest, sweetest strains 
Fall ravishingly on my ear. 

And e'er with me remains. 
Thus through the silent hours of night 

The vision floats before me, 
Till fading in the morning light 

In misty splendor o'er me. 
All through the day, 'mid haunts of men, 

Forms mock me in derision, 
I rest not, till night brings again 

The fair mysterious vision. 
With that smile so strangely sweet 

That o'er me fondly beams. 
All day I long for night, to meet 

The Angel of my Dreams 



^^^^^^ 




DO THEY DREAM OF ME? 

WHEN slumber, with mysterious hand, 
Unlocks bright fancies' portals, 
Waving high her magic wand, 

She lendeth wings to mortals ; 
Then through those mystic realms I soar, 

And smiling faces see. 
Long absent friends I greet once more, 
Oh, do theii dream of me ? 

All intervening time and space 

By magic seems to vanish, 
And many a dear, familiar face 

All present sorrows banish ; 
Dear eyes look answering love in mine, 

I never more may see, 
My heart they thrill with bliss divine, 

Oh, do they dream of me ? 

4 37 



38 FIELD FLOWERS. 

And pictures bright from Diem'ry's hand 

Then greet my happy vision, 
In some mysterious fairy land, 

Or beautiful elysian ; 
While thus 'neath slumber's smiles I bask. 

How bless'd I seem to be. 
Yet in my waking hours I ask, 

Oh, do they dream of me ? 



HER SMILE. 

HER smile is like the dew. 
Refreshing drooping flowers, 
Or like the dazzling hue 

Of sunbeams after showers. 
Its beam so softly bright. 

Like seraph strayed from bliss, 
Seems like a ray of light 

From fairer realms than this. 

Her smile is passing fair. 
It glides into all hearts, 

Making sunshine there. 
Sweetest bliss imparts ; 

Sorrows, like the snow. 
Melt 'neath its genial ray, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 39 

And sweetest pleasures glow 
Like rosy clouds of day. 

Her smile is light and love, 

Transcendent is its beam, 
Like rainbow-arch above, 

A clear and placid stream. 
O sweet and bright and fair, 

Devoid of art or guile, 
Reflecting beauty rare, 

That gentle, winning smile ! 



SISTER MAY. 



I 



HAD a lovely sister, with ever cloudless brow. 
The buttercups and daisies are blooming o'er her 



Her bright, untrammelled spirit no longer here 

would stay. 
But plumed its beauteous pinions, and winged its 
flight away. 
Sweet little May ! we loved of all the best, 
Has passed away, to mingle with the blest. 
Dear little May ! we ever loved so well. 
Has flown away to heaven, with angels now to 
dwell. 



40 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Her voice was ever gayest, and sweetest of the throng, 
Gushing out in snatches of clear and bird-like song, 
For the heart so light and happy, in blissful wealth 

of love, 
Thus rippled o'er with melody, its gratitude to prove. 

We loved her with devotion, surpassing words to tell, 
As one too rare and beautiful 'mid earthly scenes to 

dwell. 
And, oh ! the pangs we suffered to see her fade and 

die. 
As a pale and drooping lily transplanted to the sky. 

She has gone, the fair and lovely, from hearts that 

loved her dear ; 
She heedeth not our anguish, she seeth not the tear : 
The birds she fondly cherished are warbling o'er her 

now. 
But God has placed a coronet of glory on her brow. 

And oft, at close of even, methinks I catch the gleam 
Of golden ringlets waving, and blue eyes' tender beam. 
Through roseate clouds of sunset, an angel form I 

see. 
With white and flowing raiment, gaze smilingly on 

me. 




THE SECRET. 

A WONDERFUL secret, dear Annie, have I ; 
To hear it, sweet love, would you care ? 
'Tis of a fair maiden so winningly shy, 

The sunbeams all glinting her hair. 
Whose bright, budding beauty, enshrined in my heart, 

For years has been fondly concealed. 
Would'st have me the name of the loved one impart ? 
Then gaze in my eyes ! 'tis revealed ! 

Dost see there reflected a sweet, blushing face, 

And eyes so bewitchingly blue, 
A form that seems moulded in willowy grace, 

And lips of the strawberry's hue? 
My eyes are like mirrors, reflecting the form 

Of the sweet little maiden I prize, 
Which like a bird nestles securely and warm 

In the heart, and peeps out from the eyes. 
4* 41 



42 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Dear Annie, the secret so precious is thine, 

For thee, only thee, do I yearn : 
l^hen, loved one, since thou hast possession of mine, 

Oh, give me thy heart in return. 
I'll tenderly shield thee from every care,- 

Consent my life's blessing to be ; 
My true heart will shelter thee faithfully there, 

And share every secret with thee. 

'Tis vain, all in vain, to disguise that I love. 
For though the proud heart might conceal it, 

The eyes, Annie darling, arch traitors would prove, 
And truly and fondly reveal it. 



THE PATCH-WORK QUILT. 

THE patch-work quilt! a relic old, 
Of years long past away ; 
And as, once more I here behold 

Its patches, quaint and gay. 
My thoughts revert to childhood's hours. 

When Nellie, Kate, and I 
That patch-work sewed, in blocks and flowers, 
In happy days gone by. 

My eyes suffuse with sudden tears. 
As each familiar patch 



FIELD FLOWERS. 43 

Recalls the home of childhood's years : 

Its high-peaked roof of thatch, 
Its spacious, pleasant, breezy hall, — 

We played there many a day. 
Now of that dear home circle, all 

But I have passed away. 

My mother's dear familiar face 

And ever willing hand, 
I, in this spotted muslin trace. 

And seem to see her stand 
Beside the little garden-gate 

Beneath the lindens cool. 
Where for her little ones she 'd v»^aii, 

To welcome them from school. 

Dear sister Nellie sweetly smiles 

From out this calico. 
And all her little winning wiles 

In memory seem to glow. 
This piece of pink most fondly speaks 

Of roguish brother Ned, 
With saucy dimples in his cheeks, 

And mischief in his head. 

This little blossom-colored square 

Recalls sweet baby Rose, 
With bluest eyes and golden hair, 

And funny little nose ; 



44 FIELD FLOWERS. 

But angels came the child to take, 

And bore her from our side ; 
We thought our hearts would fairly break 

The day the baby died. 

This dainty piece with roses bright 

Belonged to sister Kate, 
The maddest, merriest-hearted sprite ! 

Yet bitter was her fate : 
Her trusting heart she freely gave 

To one who faithless proved; 
We laid her in an early grave. 

For, oh ! too well she loved. 

Here, cousin Lida's pretty form 

In this gay patch I see. 
And little May, with heart so warm, 

In this comes back to me. 
She went away to foreign land. 

Across the ocean foam ; 
And left our little household band 

To grace a princely home. 

Now, dear old grandmamma so kind. 

With glasses on her nose. 
In this dark piece of brown I find — 

And oh ! how memory glows. 
Yes, yes ! methinks I see her now, 

So patient, sweet, and mild ; 



FIELD FLOWERS. 45 

Soft silvery hair and placid brow ; 
She soothed each wayward child ; 

And from the pockets of this dress 

Brought forth some treasured prize, 
Which seldom failed to soothe distress, 

And dry all weeping eyes. 
I thought no other child possessed 

A grandma so divine. 
Or that no other home was blessed 

So bounteously as mine. 

Oh, what a happy day was that 

The merry " quilters " came. 
And sewed, with gay and pleasant chat, 

Around the quilting-frame. 
And, oh ! the laughter and the fun. 

When eve the beaux had brought, 
The joyous dancing was begun. 

With mirth and music fraught. 

And many other bits recall 

Full many a former friend. 
And loving memories of them all 

In fancy fondly blend. 
All scattered o'er the world so wide 

In many different climes ; 
Some in the blessed land abide. 

Dear ones of former times ! 



46 FIELD FLOWERS. 

For all ! the years liave flown away 

And left me liere alone, 
An aged woman, bent and gray, 

My loved ones all have gone ! 
So, poor old quilt, I lay you by, 

A^ relic of the past, 
I fold you up with many a sigh. 

And tear-drops falling fast. 



THE FADED RIBBON. 

l^OTHING but a faded ribbon ! 
Xi That is all that you may see. 
But a thrilling volume speaketh 

From this little band to me. 
My heart recalls a gentle maiden. 

Lovely, young, and passing fair, 
With this azure ribbon twining 

'Mid the bands of sunny hair. 

Yes, methinks I see her standing 
In the garden, 'neath the trees, 

While this little ribbon fluttered 
Gayly in the evening breeze. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 47 

She herself the loveliest flower 

In that beautiful parterre, 
And this azure ribbon waving 

'Mid the tresses of her hair. 

Soon she saw my ardent glances, 

Saw the love-light in my eyes. 
And her own were half averted 

With a sudden, sweet surprise. 
Gently, tenderly I wooed her 

All my future life to share. 
And the azure ribbon trembled 

'Mid the ripples of her hair. 

O how thrilled my heart with rapture, 

Earth an Eden seemed to be, 
As we wandered through the garden. 

She was all the world to me. 
Gayly were our young hearts bounding 

With anticipations rare. 
And the azure ribbon fluttered 

'Mid the mazes of her hair. 

But, alas ! ere I could win her 

For my lovely, cherished bride, 
Soon my bright exotic withered, 

Slowly faded, drooped and died. 



48 FIELD FLOWERS. 

O my bitter pain and auguish, 
O my terrible despair : 

All remained was this poor ribbon 
And a tress of silken hair. 



Yet her freed and happy spirit 

Constantly communes with mine, 
And amid the clouds of even, 

Loving eyes upon me shine, 
For I know my bride awaiteth 

With the radiant angels fair, 
And a coronet of splendor 

Glorifies that golden hair. 



THE YOUNG POETESS. 

RECLINING on a mossy seat, 
Where flowers of every hue were springin< 
Rarest perfumes soft and sweet, 

Odors on the air were flinging, 
Was a maid of beauty rare, 

Her attitude deep thought revealing : 
Waves of lustrous, jetty liair 

Her snowy brow seemed half concealing. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 49 

Lost to outward things she seemed, 

While her gaze was inward turning, 
As though of brighter realms she dreamed, 

And nature's secret spells was learning. 
A wistful shadow brooding lies, 

Of strange and most mysterious sadness. 
Within the depths of azure eyes, 

Which should reflect the young heart's gladness. 
She seemed for earth too pure and fair, 

More like a dream, or poet's vision ; 
Or lovely spirit of the air, * 

Inhabiting some bright elysian : 
Genius sat upon her brow. 

High her fame and world-renowned, 
At her feet, in homage low, 

Many knelt with laurels crowned. 
Words with tender meaning fraught 

Had been breathed to her in vain, 
For earth's noblest ones had sought 

This bright and peerless one to gain ; 
But she ever turned away. 

With a smile so sadly tender, 
Never would she answer yea, 

To those who would their homage render. 
And here reclined this gifted one. 

Alone 'mid nature's solitude. 
Life's sweet allurement all to shun. 

And with strange sadness seemed to brood, 
5 D 



50 FIELD FLOWERS. 

O why should she life's joys forego, 
She of the rare and gifted mind, 

What is the secret of her woe ? 
The lovely poetess was blind ! 



EVEK AT THE TWILIGHT HOUR. 

EVER at the twilight hour, 
AVhen the sun to rest is sinking. 
Strange ideas of mystic power 

Sets my busy brain to thinking. 
Beauteous visions of the past. 

Rich in all their radiant splendor ; 
Memories, thronging thick and fast, 

Loving fancies fond and tender. 
Thus while each tint around the sun, 

Mystic in its rosy brightness, 
Fades in shadow one by one, 

Reminding me of hearts whose lightness 
Gay as tints from western skies, 

In the azure dome above us. 
Smiling faces, laughing eyes, 

Of the cherished ones who love us. 



How sad to meet th' averted glance 
Once with fond affection beaming, 



FIELD FLOWEKS. 61 

Reading in their depths perchance, 

Thoughts of bitter import teeming. 
Then the weary " might have been," 

Comes with mocking power to taunt us, 
Bright as tints of silvery sheen 

At the twilight hour to haunt us. 
Fondest love and thrilling vow, 

At that dreamy hour once plighted, 
Bitter memory whispers how 

Love was scorned and unrequited. 
Yes ! those fond and tender smiles, 

Bright as sunset clouds in seeming,^ 
Proved as vain, delusive wiles. 

Frail as ever twilight dreaming. 



TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME. 

OTELL me that you love me, 
For though full well I know 
Your heart is alhmine own, 'tis joy 

To hear you tell me so. 
'Twill make assurance doubly sure. 

And thrill my heart with bliss, 
Then tell me that you love me. 
And seal it with a kiss ! 



52 FIELD FLOWERS. 

O tell me that you love me ! 

In this sad world below, 
Distrust and doubt do oft suggest 

Perhaps it is not so ; 
But those sweet words with magic power 

Will every doubt dismiss : 
Then tell me that you love me, 

And seal it with a kiss ! 

O tell me that you love me. 

And clasp me to your breast ; 
'Tis joy to nestle fondly there, 

In sweet and blissful rest. 
To feel your arms enfold me, 

What joy can equal this, 
Then tell me that you love me, 

And seal it with a kiss ! 

O tell me that you love me ! 

And let me fondly trace 
The glowing feelings of your heart 

Eeflected in your face. 
O I would scorn all other joys 

For rapture such as this ; 
Then tell me that you love me, 

And seal it with a kiss ! 




NO LETTER YET! 

"VrO letter yet, no letter yet! 

X 1 I Ve waited day by day, 

And watched the lagging weary hours 

Creep tardily away. 
O could the one so dear to me 

So easily forget, 
And thus all faithless prove to be ? 

Alas ! no letter yet I 

No letter yet, no letter yet ! 

How heavy seems my heart, 
While disappointment's chilling hand 

The bitter tear-drops start ; 
And expectation, long delayed, 

Will ofttimes doubts beget, 
Which fill the sick'ning heart with dread, 

Alas ! no letter yet ! 

No letter yet, no letter yet ! 

Sweet hope, with cheering smile, 
5* 53 



64 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Oft whispers of the coming day. 
My sorrow to beguile. 

Yet all in vain her ministry, 
Each day bears fresh regret, 

It comes, it passes, yet it brought, 
Alas ! no letter yet ! 



SING ME THOSE BEAUTIFUL LAYS. 

OSING me those beautiful lays, 
Thou know'st most fondly I prize, 
While I sit here and tenderly gaze 

In the depths of thy soul-speaking eyes ; 
Those thrilling and soul-melting strains, 

So soft, so deliciously clear, 
My heart with a rapture enchains, 
And heaven seems blissfully near. 

Then sing to me, dear one, I feel 

A spell in each low-uttered word, 
Emotions no words can reveal, 

Deep, deep in my bosom are stirred. 
My heart swells with rapturous love, 

With an ecstasy almost divine, 
And I wonder if music above 

Could ever be sweeter than thine. 




THE LIEUTENANT. 

PROUD, martial music came greeting my ears, 
While out promenading one day, 
And I hastened to see the " returned Volunteers," 

All marching in noble array ; 
How proudly they stepped, with a quick, measured 
tread, 
With uniforms blood-stained and worn, 
For in many a battle their blood had been shed, 
And many brave comrades were gone. 

The tears filled my eyes, as I heard the sweet strain, 

And thought of the ones who 'd ne'er come. 
Who slept their last sleep on some lone battle-plaiu, 

Far away from the loved ones at home. 
Thus musing so sadly, while pitying sighs 

Heaved my bosom with sweet sympathy, 
And tears of emotion suffusing my eyes, 

I felt tender glances on me. 

55 



56 FIELD FLOWERS. 

How deeply I blushed, as I hastened away, 

But I dreamed of the handsome lieutenant. 
And my heart fairly throbbed when I met him next 
day, 

I knew those bright eyes in a minute. 
We met once again at a mutual friend's. 

And he asked me to give him my heart ; 
And I Ve promised, as soon as this horrid war ends, 

No more from my lover to part. 



SINK TO BEST CALMLY! 

SINK to rest calmly ! life's day soon will close, 
Angels will bear thee to blissful repose. 
Thy noble young life-blood is ebbing in pain, 
Dyeing with crimson the flowery plain. 
Thou hast fought bravely the battle of life, 
Ended forever are carnage and strife ; 
Angels, bright angels, around thee will come, 
Bearing thy freed spirit lovingly home. 

No tender mother bends over thee now. 
Wiping the death-damps away from thy brow, 
Raining above thee her kisses and tears. 
Breathing to heaven her heart-gushing prayers. 



FIELD FLOWEES. 57 

Hoarse are the shouts, the loud cannon rattle, 
As fiercely is swaying the tide of the battle. 
And though 'midst this carnage thou meetest thy fate, 
Angels, bright angels, around thee now wait. 

Hurried the grave where they '11 lay thee to rest, 
The picture of one whom thou'dst loved on thy breast, 
The sun there will shine in full noon-day splendor, 
The moon will cast on thee her rays pure and tender, 
Thy loved ones at home will in vain watch and wait, 
And sadly will weep when they hear thy sad fate ; 
But angels, bright angels, will carry thee home, 
See ! in their glorified beauty they come ! 



BEFOKE THE WAK. 

THE maiden's lament. 

BEFOKE the war my life was gay, 
No grief nor care had I, 
And all seemed one long summer day 

With blue and cloudless sky; 
For tender words were whispered low 

Into my willing ear. 
But now my heart is steeped in woe, 
For John 's a Volunteer. 



68 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Before the war each pretty girl 

Could boast a gallant swain, 
To take her to the opera ; 

But now she sighs in vain : 
All sad and lonely she must stay, 

Moping and forlorn, 
For every gallant fine and gay, 

Away to war has gone. 

O how my heart with rapture beat. 

When bending low to me. 
He asked me, with a smile so sweet. 

His little bride to be. 
Methought the sun had never shone 

On maiden blest as I ; 
But since to war my John has gone, 

I sit all day and cry ! 

He used to say the summer skies 

Were never half so blue, 
Or beautiful as my bright eyes ; 

I wonder was it true? 
For if he loved me as he said. 

So very, very dear, 
How could he leave his little maid, 

To be a Volunteer. 

Oh, if a cruel Rebel ball 
That noble life should take, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 59 

If bravely fighting he should fall, 

I know my heart would break. 
Yet I will work, and hope, and pray, 

That soon will end the war. 
And when he comes again, we may 

Be never parted more ! 



GRIEVE NOT, LOVE. 

/^ RIEVE not, love ; my country calls me, 
vX I must battle for her sake. 
Though thy loveliness enthrall me, 

That sweet bondage I must break ; 
Couldst thou bless a tardy lover. 

Should he thus a recreant prove? 
But, dear one, when this war is over, 

His reward shall be thy love. 

Weep not, lest thy tears unnerve me, 

Weaken both my heart and arm. 
Thy fond prayers must e'er preserve me. 

Prove a shield from every harm. 
Like a brave, heroic maiden. 

Bid me battle for the right. 
Thus with prayers and blessings laden, 

I will conquer in the fight. 



60 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Ah ! thy smiles are now returnmg, 

One embrace, and then, adieu ! 
With love for thee and country burning, 

Surely must my heart prove true. 
And when laurel-wreaths have crowned me, 

I will haste thy smiles to meet ; 
Then, while peace and joy surround me, 

Lay those laurels at thy feet. 



WKITE SOON. 



WHEN loving hearts must sever, 
And cherished ones must part, 
For years, perchance forever. 

Then swells the aching heart. 
And tender words, low spoken. 
Then greet the listening ear. 
Oh, send me soon love's token, 
My weary life to cheer. 
Write soon ! 

For oh, how sad and weary 

Those once bright hours must be. 

How lonely, dark and dreary. 
Now you have gone from me. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 61 

With loving eyes all tearful, 

Repressing many a sigh, 
Each strives to smile so cheerful, 

And murmurs, Love, good-bye ! 
Write soon ! 

For letters have a power, 

When traced by cherished hand, 
To beautify each hour, 

The heart can understand. 
O how it fondly lingers 

On every word and line, 
Traced by those absent fingers, 

As thy heart communes with mina 
Write soon ! 

Write soon, beloved, I pray thee! 

Is oft the parting prayer, 
On no account delay thee, 

To send the missive dear. 
Thou knowest well how lonely 

My life-path now must be, 
It can be brightened only 

By letters, love, from thee. 
Write soon ! 



1^ 




THE BRIDAL DAY. 

TO LOUIE G. 

THE bridal dawn now breaks, 
And ushers in that day so fraught with fate, 

And rosy morning wakes, 
With bright anticij)ations all elate. 

Swift from her orient bed 
Springs young Aurora, with a timid grace, 

And blushing rosy red. 
Receives her ardent lord. King Sol's embrace ; 

Then, with a smile serene. 
Throws back the gorgeous curtains of the East, 

And robed in silver sheen. 
Commands the gods attend the bridal-feast. 

Fair Nature now doth rise, 
Arrays herself in Autumn's glowing hues, 

With tints of ricliest dyes. 
All glittering witli gems of sparkling dews. 

G2 



FIELD FLOWERS. 63 

The sweet, delicious breeze, 
While rippliog on the gentle streamlet's breast, 

Told to the bending trees 
The tale of love which two young hearts had 
blessed : 

That on this fateful day, 
A fair young maiden, with love-beaming eyes, 

Herself would give away 
To one who that rare gift would fondly prize. 

The day wears on apace. 
The long anticipated moment now is near. 

Which time can ne'er efface, 
So fraught with life's conflicting hope and fear, 

Yet hope's fair, dazzling bow 
Spans all the future with resplendence bright. 

And with a radiant glow 
Gilds every object with a rosy light ;. 

Yet will intrude a fear 
Of that untried and all-mysterious realm. 

And oft a timid tear 
Falls softly, lest the cares of life o'erwhelm ; 

Yet mutual faith and love 
Will be the sunshine that will bless and cheer. 

And sweetest solace prove, 
If trial-clouds should gather dark and drear. 

And now the bride appears. 
Arrayed in robes of pure and spotless white, 



64 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Emblem of girlhood's years, 
When life's enjoyments seem most gay and bright; 

Rare flowers deck her brow, 
Oh, may they prove a type of those she '11 meet 

In wintry age, as now, 
No rankling thorns to pierce her timid feet. 

God bless that fair young bride. 
May happiness attend her future life. 

And him, who at her side 
Stands proudly now and claims her for his wife. 

May no dark clouds arise 
To hide the sunlight of their onward way, 

But blue and smiling skies 
Make life as radiant as this bridal day. 



TO LOTTIE. 

MY IDEAL. 

A CREATURE beautiful and good, 
The type of noble womanhood. 
Where grace and peerless virtues meet 
To render loveliness complete. 
Her regal brow so white and fair, 
The signet seal of peace doth bear ; 
The tender light of inward grace 
Reflects its beauty on her face. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 6^ 

An atmosphe?'e of puiity 
Surrounds wherever she may be ; 
Around her doth its halo shine 
Like some sweet saint within a shrine. 
A rare and most peculiar grace 
Distinguishes both form and face; 
A voice whose melody beguiles, 
And oil ! the sweetness of her smiles, 
No lovelier were ever seen, 
So bright, so winning, so serene. 
Unto the heart they seem to say, 
What beauteous charms in goodness lay. 
Oh, had I but a poet's lyre, 
To sing her praise I 'd never tire: 
But my poor pen can ill express 
Her virtues and her loveliness, 
For grace and nature have combined 
To render perfect heart and mind. 
A precious gem, a jewel rare, 
To which no other may compare. 
Although her heart great griefs has known, 
And sorrow marked her for its own, 
Her hea.vy cross she meekly bears. 
And others' joys and sorrows shares. 
Her loviiig sympathy doth cheer 
With ever ready snale or tear; 
Her earthly mission is to bless. 
Console the sad^ relieve distress, 
6* E 



66 FIELD FLOWEPwS. 

And like a sunbeam's cheering ray, 
Drive clouds of gloom and care away. 
An angel both in heart and mind, 
With truest womanhood combined ; 
Oh, long may she to earth be given, 
Till angels bear her back to heaven ! 



WELCOME HOME. 

TO ROSE, ON HER RETURN FROM CALIFORNIA. 

WE welcome thy return, sweet Kose, 
From sunny southern bowers. 
Where, though the sunshine warmer glows, 

And brighter bloom the flowers. 
Yet nowhere can the sun of love. 

No matter where thou 'It roam. 
More rich in golden glory prove. 

Than in thy northern home : 
There happy hearts with rapture beat 

To welcome thee once more. 
And lovingly their Rose they greet 

Back to her native shore. 
We 'U cherish thee so tenderly. 

No more thou 'It sigh to roam, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 67 

And make thy bower so bright for thee, 

Thou 'It joy to call it home. 
We welcome, too, those buds so sweet, 

Which grace the parent stem. 
And make the bright bouquet complete, 

We '11 fondly cherish them. 
Oh, if 'tis such great joy to meet 

On this cold, earthly shore. 
How rapturous in heaven to greet. 

Where partings are no more ! 



AFFECTION. 



HOW sad is the heart having no one to love, 
No tender affection to bless it ; 
All lonely and desolate ever to rove. 

No answering heart to caress it ; 
All vainly to reach out its tendrils and find 

No resting-place where to entwine them. 
No spirit responsive, no answering mind. 

Where the heart's inmost feelings can shrine them ; 
No eyes that will beam with delight as we come, 

No cheek that suffuses with pleasure. 
No lips that will tenderly chide if we roam. 

To whom we are life's dearest treasure. 



68 FIELD FLOWERS. 

No man so contented with riches and pelf 

Found riches life's fullest perfection ; 
No being on earth so concentred in self 

Who felt not the need of affection. 
Oh, dearer, far dearer, some sweet little cot, 

Half hidden 'mid woodbine and roses, 
With love to embellish the beautiful spot, 

For there truest pleasure reposes. 
Yes, bitter the longing and cruel the pain, 

Of the heart having no one to love it ; 
Ambition and fortune may flatter in vain, 

There is something it ever will covet. 
No matter how humble, how mean or obscure, 

The blessing most precious e'er given, 
Is mutual affection, so tender and j)ure 

Converting poor earth into heaven ! 



PEERLESS VIRGIN. 

PEERLESS Virgin, heaven's queen, 
Radiant, lovely, and serene, 
Bless thy children kneeling here, 
Who ask thy fond, protecting care. 
We seek thee as a safe retreat 
From all the worldly snares we meet; 
To thy protecting arms we fly, 
O may we find thee ever nigh. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 69 

We have a child's most tender claim 
To call thee Mother — dearest name ! 
For ere our Jesus went to heaven, 
Thou wert His gift to mankind given. 
On thee we fix our loving gaze, 
And sing to thee our hymns of praise. 
O Mother of our Jesus, prove, 
Thou hast for us a mother's love. 

And when temptation's billows roll 
And almost overwhelm the soul. 
Oh, bid the angry tempest cease, 
And guide us to a port of peace. 
Oh, when my fragile bark of life 
Is almost stranded in the strife. 
Dear Mother, clasp me by the hand 
And lead me safely to the land. 
When night is closing round in gloom 
And naught is left me but the tomb, 
O Mother, then to thee I '11 raise 
My last, expiring, trusting gaze. 
Turn then thy loving eyes so mild 
To reassure thy trembling child. 
And let thy tender smile be given 
A pledge of future bliss in heaven. 




TWENTY-OjSTE. 

TO J. s. 

17^ ARE WELL, sweet days of cliildliood, 
- Of boyhood's merry sport, 
The years so long in coming 

Seem now so very short. 
Unclouded, free from sorrow, 

With boyish fancies bright. 
When every coming morrow 

Brought forth some fresh delight. 
O can they all be ended. 

Like some bright summer day, 
With shower and sunshine blended, 

Now faded quite away? 
Yes, down the stream immortal 

Glide now those days of yore, 
Thou 'st entered manhood's portal, 

A boy thou art no more. 

70 



FIELD FLOWERS. 71 

O may the life before thee 

Prove e'en brighter than the past, 
May fortune's sun shine o'er thee, 

Unclouded to the last, 
May strength to thee be given 

To battle for the right, 
Until thou 'rt crowned in heaven, 

A victor in the fight. 



VESPER HYMN. 



THE day is declining, the mystical light 
Of twilight in shadows hath bound us, 
Over earth's bosom the mantle of night 
Is gloomily falling around us. 

We ask thy assistance, thy cherishing care, 
O guard us, sweet Mother, from dangers. 

From every temptation and treacherous snare 
O may the dear children prove strangers. 

As stars in their beauty come forth in the sky 
To brighten the murkiness o'er us. 

So may thy fond, loving protection be nigh, 
Illuming the pathway before us. 



72 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Aod when the dread messenger, Death, shall have 
come 

To summon us over the river, 
O may thy sweet presence enlighten the gloom, 

And bid us be happy forever, 

O Mary, dear Mother, then list to the prayer 

We offer in music's sw^eet numbers. 
We trust in thy clemency, ." Virgin all fair," 

To guard from all evil our slumbers. 



MAY HYMN. 



BEHOLD, sweet Mother, at thy feet 
Thy children kneel this day, 
With grateful, happy hearts, to greet 
Their lovely Queen of May. 

Although thou 'li, heaven's radiant Queen, 

So gracious yet thou art, 
Accepting, with a smile serene. 

Each humbly offered heart. 

Angelic choirs thy praise proclaim, 

The seraphim unite 
In hailing " Mary's " glorious name, 

The heavenly hosts delight. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 73 

To thee, O peerless Queen of May, 

Our loving hearts we raise, 
And at thy feet our homage pay, 

In joyful hymns of praise. 

O gracious Mother, grant that we 

May faithful children prove, 
Through time and through eternity, 

O bless us with thy love. 



THE REASON WHY. 



WHY must childhood fleet away ? 
Why must youth's bright hopes decay? 
Why must lovely flowers die ? 
Why must clouds o'erspread the sky ? 
Why must every noble feeling, 
Purity and truth revealing. 
Shrink away in timid fear 
From the cold world's bitter sneer ? 
Why must all the heart should cherish, 
Truth and honor, rudely perish ? 
Why must base oppression's might 
Always overcome the right ? 
Haughty imposition thrust 
Humble merit in the dust ? 
7 



74 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Why so tainted all below ? 
Why, oh, why must this be so ? 

Youth aucl childhood's hours glide 
Down Time's ever onward tide. 
Till they reach the shining river, 
Where 'tis youth and joy forever ! 
Nature's lovely children, flowers. 
Fade in this cold world of ours ; 
But they '11 sweetly bloom above, 
In that blissful land of love. 
Though the earth with storms is riven, 
All is calm and bright in heaven. 
Though the world regards with scorn 
Every feeling heaven-born, 
What is earthly sneer or frown ? 
Without the " cross " there is no " crown.' 

God oftentimes permits base might 

To rise triumphant o'er the " right." 

'Tis only for a while ; His will 

Shall ever rise in triumph still ! 

He will then exalt the lowly 

In His kingdom pure and holy. 

He in His wisdom never meant 

His children here should feel content. 

But that their hearts should soar above 

Where dwelleth peace and endless love. 



FIELD FLOWEKS. 75 

The earth He made thus dark and drear, 
That heaven brighter should appear ; 
That earthly trials we should bear, 
And heaven's bliss and glory share. 



THERE'S MANY AN EMPTY CRADLE. 

THERE'S many an empty cradle, and many a 
little grave. 

That speaks a mother's anguish, and says her heart 
doth crave 

The little form that slumbered, so rosy and so fair, 

Within the pretty cradle, watched by a mother's care ; 

Who played about the hearth-stone, so merry and so 
bright, 

A father's proudest treasure, a mother's fond delight. 

But who now, pale and motionless, lies low beneath 
the sod. 

The earthly casket in the grave, the precious gem 
with God. 

Oh, from the little grave mound, now raise thy weep- 
ing eyes. 

Thy darling baby is not there, but soars above the 
skies ! 



76 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Where glory is eternal, and joy is all supreme, 
Where earth's o'erwhelming sorrows appear but like 

a dream. 
Then check the tide of anguish that surges o'er the 

heart. 
And think of that sweet meeting, no more, no more 

to part ! 
Where hearts are never aching with anguish and 

despair, 
O'er empty little cradles, for all are happy there. 
Thy little one awaits thee, with many a sweet caress, 
To be thy joy forever, to comfort and to bless. 
Those loving arms will clasp thee in tenderest embrace, 
How great will be thy rapture to see the cherub face ! 
For there no empty cradle, where once her babe did 

lie. 
Or tiny little grave mound, will pain the mother's eye ; 
For all is fair and beautiful within the Spirit Land, 
And tears will all be wiped away, e'en by the Saviour's 

hand. 





DKEAMS OF YOUTH. 

DRIFTING back on memory's tide, 
Through the by-gone realms of youth, 
Fairy visions past me glide, 

When I fancied all was truth ! 
Then smiling faces round me beamed, 

Eyes looked answering love in mine, 
Every hour with beauty teemed 

All resplendent, all divine. 
Music floated on the air, 

Zephyrs whispered through the trees, 
Flowers blossomed everywhere. 

Wafting perfume on the breeze. 
Streams reflected heaven's blue 

In their silvery, flashing wave. 
Blossoms bright of every hue 

In its tranquil bosom lave. 
Heaven smiled serene and bright, 

Earth appeared a fairy-land, 



78 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Glowing in a rosy liglit, 

As though transformed by magic wand 
Then my trusting heart believed 

Every word by friendship spoke, 
The tender vows of love received 

As though such vows were never broke. 
Gushingly my heart went out 

To those loving friends so dear, 
Trusting all without a doubt. 

Deeming every heart sincere. 
Why, oh, why must time e'er bring 

To the hearts which trust in truth. 
Base suspicion's venomed sting, 

Blasting every hope of youth ! 
Why, oh, why m.ust all awake 

From their youthful, blissful dream, 
To find that early friends forsake. 

And life's pleasures only " seem ! " 
Yes, all drear and desolate 

Seems the desert waste of life, 
Sad and bitter is my fate. 

And I weary of its strife. 
Yet how vain and Aveak regret ! 

Time can ne'er restore the past ; 
Better could the heart forget 

Joys that were too frail to last ; 
Better still to meekly bear 

Sorrows which all hearts must know, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 79 

Patiently life's trials share, 

These await all here below. 
But a brighter land is near, 

Fairer than the realms of youth ; 
Heaven's joys are far more dear. 

For God is love, and love is truth ! 



THE PAST. 

ii T3ACKWARD, turn backward, oh, time, in 

J3 your flight," 
Bring me the past again, just for to-night ; 
Lovingly memory lingers around. 
Pleasures which but in the past can be found. 
Then was my spirit unfettered and free. 
As fearlessly wild as the gulls of the sea, — 
Earth seemed a region enchantingly bright. 
Flooded with heaven's own beautiful light. 

On fairy-like pinions were borne the gay hours. 
Joyously onward, all wreathed with flowers, 
M-usic seemed floating around in the air. 
Pleasures were beckoning everywhere. 
How radiant seems the mysterious spell, 
In youthful hearts only that deigneth to dwell ; 
Augmenting the simplest pleasures tenfold. 
Transforming the commonest dross into gold. 



80 FIELD FLOWERS. 

How sweet is Aurora, just waking at dawn, 
Glowing and bright with the freshness of morn ! 
Till Sol fiercely blows his hot breath in her face, 
Of all her fresh beauties scarce leaving a trace; 
Even thus to Aurora, so lovely and fair. 
In freshness and purity, youth may compare, 
Until the fierce simoon of passion had wrought 
Its sad desolation, and misery brought. 



LINES. 



IN this world there is nothing but sorrow. 
Each joy is attended with pain; 
If to-day has a pleasure, the morrow 
Is sure to bring trouble again. 

Each cloud has a bright silver lining, 

Philosoj^hers tell us 'tis true; 
One moment we witness it shinin 



C3» 



The next it is hidden from view. 

And thus we 're kept Avecping and smiling, 
Thrilled with joy, anon plunged in distress ; 

When pleasures appear most beguiling. 
Some trouble will mar all our bliss. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 81 

But whether with joy life is teeming, 

Or with sorrow our poor hearts are riven, 

All pleasures and pains are but seeming, 
Por nothing is truthful but heaven. 

Then, oh, let us turn to it ever. 

And seek there a solace in grief. 
Be sure, if we 're trusting, 'twill never 

Refuse the expected relief. 



SHARING HONORABLY. 

ONCE my roguish little Willie 
Sought my side with anxious air. 
And I knew some knotty question 

Brought the little fellow there. 
" I have purchased, just see, mother ! 

Such a splendid piece of cake, 
And I want to share with brother, 
Please for him a portion break ! " 

Then said I, " My little Willie, 
You should always have a care, 

When to others you are giving, 
Always honorably to share." 
F 



82 FIELD FLOWERS. 

" What is lionorably, dear mother ? " 
Said the rogue, with merry laugh. 

" It means that you should give your brother 
Of this cake the hiqaest half! " 



For awhile he stood there gazing 

On the precious piece of cake, 
With a comical expression, 

Loth this sage advice to take. 
Suddenly said he, " Dear mother," 

And his black eyes danced with glee, 
" I will give it all to brother, 

And make him share honorably ! " 



THE WITHERED FLOWERS. 

THE flowers you gave me, my darling, 
Before me all withering lie ; 
I gaze on their faded forms sadly, 

And greet their lost bloom with a sigh. 
They were gathered by dear little fingers, 

While with dew-drops their petals were wet, 
And a delicate fragrance still lingers. 
And clings to them wistfully yet. 

The moment so dreaded grew nearer. 
The hour that decreed we should part, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 83 

And he seemed at that sad moment dearer, 
More precious than e'er to my heart. 

He saw bitter tear-drops were stealing, 
And tenderly patted my cheek, 

His fond little heart thus revealing. 
Although not a word could he speak. 

Then leaving my fondest embracing, 

Away to the garden he ran, 
Bright smiles all the tear-drops eifacing, 

To gather the flowers he began ; 
Till, laden with beautiful treasures, 

He gave them with sweet, winning smile. 
As though we could bring every pleasure, 

And every distress could beguile. 

Yes, withered, and scentless, and faded, 

Rifled of all their rich bloom. 
Are lying the blossoms once laded 

With grateful, delicious perfume. 
Yet even more fondly I prize them 

Than flowers more brilliant and gay ; 
My heart no aflection denies them. 

For they breathe of my child far away ! 




THE SNOW. 

THE snow ! how it circles and whirls around, 
From feathery beds on high, 
Piling softly the bare bleak ground. 
Gracefully, gently, without a sound, 

On a mission from on high. 
Silently robing the earth in white 

With vestments, oh, how rare ! 
Till she looks like a bride on her wedding night, 
In virgin loveliness, dazzling bright. 

So spotless and so lair. 

The snow ! it tenderly folds earth's breast, 

With mantle warm and deep, 
Where, patiently waiting in peaceful rest. 
To spring from the dear maternal nest, 

The little seedlings sleep ; 
Performing thus its work of love. 

To bless the world below, 

84 



FIELD FL0WEE8. 86 

Softly descending from realms above, 
Like angels borne on wings of dove, ' 

The pure and lovely snow ! 

The snow ! it heaven and earth connects 

In beautiful embrace, 
It covers, like charity, many defects,' 
The dreariest spots it most selects 

And many an humble place ; 
Making the roughest smooth and fair. 

And objects seem to glow 
With dazzling splendor everywhere. 
As flickering, fluttering through the air, 

Falleth the pure white snow ! 

The snow ! it falleth from murky clouds, 

No object can escape, 
Nature's wilds, and hurrying crowds. 
Its mantle all alike enshrouds 

In queer, fantastic shapes. 
The trees seem bending 'neath its weight. 

The twigs and branches bow, 
All nature 's clad in robes of state. 
And smiles beneath the burden great 

Of pure and spotless snow ! 

The snow ! it sends a keen delight 
Through gay and youthful hearts, 
8 



86 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Which hail with happy feelings bright 
The falling flakes so pure and white ; 

A rapture it imparts. 
And little children shout with glee, 

While running to and fro, 
A fairer sight could scarcely be 
Than merry children thus to see 

All sporting in the snow ! 

The snow ! how gleefully it whirls 

In sport and frolic gay. 
Kissing the cheeks of rosy girls, 
Roguishly powdering flowing curls. 

In wild and merry play. 
Of happy hearts their laughter tells 

Which only youth may know. 
On the clear and frosty air it SAvells, 
And chimes with the silvery gay sleigh-bells 

Swift gliding over the snow. 

The snow ! as it falls so thick and fast. 

In flakes so white and cold, 
Borne on the wings of the howling blast, 
Appears to say as it hurries past, 

" Earth's fleeting joys behold. 
Beneath my glittering surface deep 

Are buried many a woe. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 87 

And treasured idols coldly sleep, 
While stricken hearts may only weep 
To see the falling snow." 

Yet hope doth whisper, " Spring will come 

With sweet and cheering voice ; 
At her sweet bidding flowers will bloom, 
And rise in beauty from their tomb. 

To make the heart rejoice." 
E'en thus, when earthly bonds are riven, 

How glorious to know, 
Our best beloved once more are given, 
To bless us with their love in heaven, 

Far, far beyond the snow ! 



THE KISS REFUSED! 

THE child had been fretful the whole weary day, 
And " mamma " was greatly " put out," 
For the little one teased in a querulous way. 

And worried her mother, no doubt ; 
Till, losing all patience, she hastily said, 

*' Nurse, take the child out of my sight ! 
Undress her directly, and put her to bed, 
1 11 not even kiss her ' good night ! ' " 



88 FIELD FLOWERS. 

A frightened look came in the tender blue eyes, 

As this fearful menace she hears, 
She gazed on her mother with painful surprise, 

And eyes overflowing with tears. 
"Oh, please, mamma darling," the grieving lips said, 

While the little form shook with affright, 
" I never could sleep if you send me to bed. 

Unless you will kiss me ' good night.' " 

But " mamma " resolves " an impression " to make, 

And turns from the sad, pleading face ; 
The child had been naughty, must punishment take, 

So refused the accustomed embrace. 
Thus poor little Nellie was banished to bed, 

Though with anguish the young face was white ; 
But for hours the mother heard sobs overhead. 

And v/ished she had kissed her " good night." 

She took up the book she had longed for all day, 

But the language seemed stupid and dull, 
The cheerful apartment looked tasteful and gay, 

Yet her heart with oppression seemed full. 
She threw down the book, running quickly up-stairs, 

And turned up the glimmering light. 
Resolved to hear Nellie her evening prayers, 

And kiss the poor darling " good night ! " 

She feared she 'd been hasty and harsh with the child, 
Thought Nellie 'd breathed rapid and quick, 



FIELD FLOWEES. 89 

Remembered her darling was usually mild, 

Perhaps the poor baby was sick ! 
Such bitter reflections flashed swift through her mind, 

And filled her with painful afl'right, 
And conscience reproached her with being unkind. 

Refusing to kiss her " good night ! " 

She stole to the bedside, recoiled with a start ! 

In fever the little one tossed, 
And dark apprehensions now swept o'er her heart, 

She fears that her darling is lost ! 
Unconscious, delirious, there did she lie. 

With eyes, oh ! so fearfully bright ; 
And quivering lips that would constantly sigh, 

" Dear mamma, kiss Nellie ' good night.' " 

Alas ! what avail those wild kisses now 

She presses a thousand times o'er. 
On quivering lips and feverish brow. 

For Nellie can heed them no more ? 
A few bitter days and the child was at rest, 

With face, oh ! so waxenly white, 
Unconscious, ere winging her flight to the blest, 

That mamma had kissed her " good night." 

The heart-broken mother can never forget, — 
The scene always lives in her mind, — 

Nor ever could banish the bitter regret, 
That impatience had made her unkind. 

8* 



90 FIELD FLOWERS. 

And often, how often in memory sees 
Those dear lips with fever so bright, 

Repeating in trembling accents, " Oh, please, 
Dear mamma ! kiss Nellie good night." 



THE ANGEL IN THE CLOUD. 

WHEN my baby went to heaven, 
Earth was very dark and drear, 
And my soul seemed tempest-driven, 
Till the thought was sent to cheer. 
That the silvery clouds above us. 
Floating in the realms of light, 
Shrine sweet angel forms who love us. 
Smiling through the mist so bright. 

Thus each rosy cloud of even, 

In the radiant, glowing West, 
Bright with all the hues of heaven, 

Seems to hold an angel blest. 
Then my loving fancy traces, 

Soaring in the realms above, 
Dear familiar forms and faces. 

Angel ones we fondly love. 

And a holy calm comes o'er me, 
"While my wistful eyes I raise, — 



FIELD FLOWERS. 91 

Heaven opens bright before me, 

As on angel forms I gaze ; 
There, amid the rosy splendor 

Of the clouds that float on high, 
Oft I meet the glances tender 

Of my darling's soft blue eye. 

Then my heart expands with pleasure, 

And my voice bursts into song. 
That my child, my precious treasure, 

Now doth swell the angel throng. 
Vain and sad regrets I banish, 

That my little one has gone. 
Earthly feelings seem to vanish, 

While the clouds float brightly on. 



SYMPATHY. 

LANGUAGE faintly can reveal 
All my tender sympathy ; 
Every pain thy heart doth feel 

Reflects an answering pang to me ; 
All thy trials, all thy grief, 

All thy sorrows are my own : 
Could I give thy heart relief, 

I fain would bear them all alone ! 



92 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Although many weary miles 

Keep us wearily apart, 
All thy tears and all thy smiles 

Find reflection in my heart. 
Ah ! yes, could I thy burdens bear, 

Not a grief should cloud thy brow, 
Yet my faithful heart can share 

All that doth oppress thee now. 
Then, darling, let my sympathy, 

More than language can express, 
Sweetest comfort prove to thee 

In this hour of dark distress. 
This shall be the telegraph 

That unites us soul to soul ; 
Of thy burdens give me half, 

Would that I could bear the whole ! 



THE DREAM IN THE ARM-CHAIR. 

BLUEST eyes are peeping around the old arm- 
chair. 
Playful watch they 're keeping, smiling archly there, 
Peeping out so shyly, glancing bright at me, 
Then retreating slyly, full of mirth and glee. 

Rosy cheeks soft glowing with healthful beauty bright; 
Golden curls all flowing glinted with sunlight, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 93 

Baby's voice is ringing sweetly on my ear, 
Little rhymes 'tis singing, oh, how soft and clear ! 

Now I hear the patter of dainty little feet. 

And the merry little chatter of that voice to me so 

sweet, 
Then with lovely face uplifted he leans upon my knee, 
My darling one seems gifted with rarest charms to me. 

Anon the blue eyes closing, with head upon my breast, 
In slumber sweet reposing, he sleeps in peaceful rest. 
But when I fondly press him with rapture to my heart. 
With kisses soft caress him, I waken with a start ! 

Can this be fancy's seeming, oh, has my darling gone? 
Can this be only dreaming, am I indeed alone ? 
Yes, months ago we laid him beneath the grass and 

flowers. 
In snowy garb arrayed him, this little one of ours. 

And oh ! when thus I waken from such a dream of 

joy, 

To find myself forsaken — no little blue-eyed boy 
To spring up to my bosom, and know that curly head 
Is sleeping 'neath the blossom, all motionless and 

dead ; — 
My heart seems crushed and broken, and I vainly, 

wildly weep. 
And breathe a wish unspoken, that I might ever sleep ! 




THAT NAME. 

THAT name ? once ever on our lips, 
How seldom is it heard, 
Oh, have we then so soon forgot 

That dear, familiar w^ord ? 
Ah ! no, for deep within our hearts. 

In love's most sacred cell. 
Is treasured tenderly and true, 
The name we loved so well ! 

Too precious seems the cherished word 

To be too lightly spoken, 
Yet potent is the magic spell 

That never can be broken. 
Which, like a sweet old melody. 

Reverberates again, 
Until each nerve and sense doth thrill. 

And echo the refrain. 

'Tis borne upon the balmy breeze, 
And floating in the air, 

94 



FIELD FLOWERS. 

'Tis whispered by the rustling trees, 

I hear it everywhere ; 
I hear it in my waking hours, 

And in my dreams the same, ' 
In every throb my heart repeats 

That sweet and precious name ! 



95 



MAGGIE'S BIRTHDAY. 

THREE years we 've had our darling, our little 
household fay. 
The merry little chatterbox, just three years old to- 
day; 
The sunshine of our lives is she, the idol of our hearts, 
Prattling all day merrily, with many witching arts. 
Eyes of tender, beaming blue, bright with laughter 

gay, 

Then bathed in showers of April dew, like bluebells 

of the May. 
Cheeks like blushing roses, teeth like tiny pearls, 
In their coral beds repose ; silken auburn curls ; 
Oh, isn't she a treasure with her winsome, pretty way ? 
We love her beyond measure, just three years old 

to-day. 
Her dimpled arms so willing to give a fond caress, 
My heart with love is thrilling as her rosy lips I press. 



96 FIELD FLOWERS. 

O may the angels guide lier, and may her witching 

smile 
Be ever sweet and artless, and free from worldly guile. 
My prayers ascend to heaven, that richest blessings 

may 
Be ever freely given to my Three-year-old to-day. 



LITTLE FKANK IS NOW A SPIRIT. 

LITTLE Frank is now a spirit, 
Soaring in fair realms of light, 
Nevermore will he inherit 

Human nature's fatal blight. 
See, the blessed Saviour holds him 

Fondly in His loving arms. 
In a sweet embrace enfolds him, 
Glowing bright Avith angel charms. 

See, the beauteous angels meet him, 

In a shining, glorious band, 
O how joyously they greet him. 

In the happy spirit land. 
What though my poor heart is aching, 

Faith beholds him happy there. 
And even though that heart be breaking, 

He is free from every care. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 97 

Lord, beliold my bitter anguish, 

See my bleeding, quivering heart. 
Oft my faith doth droop and languish. 

Some consolation, Lord, impart I 
My little angel, Frank, oh, bear 

On wings of tender love to God, 
Thy mother's agonizing prayer, 

That she may kiss the chastening rod. 



THE MINLVTURR 

I OPEN now a velvet case. 
And gaze upon a pictured face; 
And, oh ! how memory fondly bunl^: 
As back the happy past returns. 
How pure, how fair the infant brow, 
More spotless than the driven snow. 
So broad, so high it ever seemed, 
As though with fancies bright it teemed. 
And oh, how^ often have I thought 
Upon his future, richly fraught 
With glorious triumphs of the mind, 
The grateful plaudits of mankind. 
When intellect's bright flag unfurled. 
And waved triurophaiit o'er the world. 

9 a 



98 FIELD FLOWEES. 

The full clear eyes, so soft, so bright, 

Seem luminous with tender light, 

Like pure, transparent drops of dew, 

With radiant sunbeams glittering through. 

What eloquence can fitly speak 

The glowing beauties of his cheek ; 

The lily and the blushing rose, 

Their richest beauties there disclose. 

Their lovely colors sweetly blend, 

And fairer, purer graces lend. 

All glowing with the velvet blush 

Of sunny peach's ripened flush. 

Little rings of silken curls, 

Little teeth like tiny pearls. 

Glistening those red lips between, 

Karer pearls were never seen. 

Oh, how oft those lips I 've pressed ! 

Oh, how oft those cheeks caressed! 

And many well-remembered graces, 

Loving memory fondly traces. 

Perhaps from other eyes concealed. 

And only unto mine revealed. 

Oh, if so fair to earthly eyes. 

What must he be in Paradise, 

From every earth-stain pure and free, 

Bright with immortality ? 




LITTLE CHILDREN. 

LITTLE children, sweet and mild, 
Gentle, pure, and undefiled, 
Who loves not a little child ? 

Innocent and full of glee, 
All day busy as a bee, 
Surely they are sweet to see. 

Trusting all without a fear, 
Now a smile and then a tear. 
Seem they not to heaven near ? 

O how bright are childhood's hours, 
Sporting 'mid life's fairest bowers. 
Culling but the choicest flowers. 

Chasing now a butterfly, 

Then, with wondering, wistful eye. 

Asking oft the reason why? 



99 



100 FIELD FLOWERS. 

And their questions, crude and queer, 
Oft surprise the listening ear. 
Puzzling the sagest seer. 

Said my baby girl, one night : 

" Who made the moon to give such light ? 

And are the stars her children bright? " 

I placed my hand upon her head, 
And with a voice impressive said, 
" 'Twas God who all these Avonders made. 

" He made the laud and water wide, 

And everything in heaven beside." 

"But who made God, mamma?" she cried. 

" My darling, 'tis a mystery, 

He ne'er was made, yet e'er will be." 

" Oh, then, I guess He grow'd," said she. 

Oh, may all children grow in grace, 
Till they see His loving face, 
In his bright and glorious place. 



^iM 




THE FIRST-BOKN. 

ENSHRINED within my heart of hearts, 
Gushes forth a new-born feeling, 
Untold sweetness it imparts, 

Ever some new bliss revealing ; 
Never in its wildest roving 

Had my heart conceived such joy. 
Never knew its powers of loving. 
Until heaven sent my boy. 

When his tiny arms are round me. 

And his cheek to mine is pressed, 
I feel that angel wings have bound me, 

As I clasp him to my breast. 
Of my babe I 'm ever thinking. 

Plans for him the hours employ. 
Ne'er from toil or trouble shrinking, 

For my little blue-eyed boy. 

It seems the glorious sun shines brighter, 
Nature wears a rosier hue, 
9* 101 



102 FIELD FLOWERS. 

E'en the air seems purer, lighter 

And the sky a softer blue. 
Oh, Avhat rapturous emotion, 

Oh, what bliss without alloy, 
Oh, what fond, intense devotion. 

Thrills my heart for thee, my boy ! 

All his infant charms and graces, 

Every little winning art. 
Every smile its image traces 

Firmly in thy mother's heart. 
Life can yield no greater pleasure, 

Heaven bestow no sweeter joy, 
Earth contains no dearer treasure, 

Than my lovely blue-eyed boy. 

Tongue or pen but faint expresses 

All the joys a mother knows, 
Which her life so richly blesses. 

And each moment brighter glows. 
Could that fond affection falter ? 

No ! e'en death could not destroy, 
Time, nor change, nor coldness alter 

Love so heaven-born, my boy ! 

I feel that thou, my babe, wert given, 
To elevate my thoughts from earth, 

And centre them in that bright heaven, 
With God who gave my darling birth. 



FIELD FLOWERS 



103 



Then list, O Lord ! a mother's prayer, 
And grant him every bliss and joy, 

If not on earth, in heaven, oh, there. 
Forever bless my darling boy ! 



TO FRANK IN HEAVEN. 

DEAR Frank, oh, look with tender eyes, 
From out the blue and smiling skies, 
Behold thy mother in her woe. 
Still weeping in this vale below. 
Yet surely 'tis not right to mourn. 
E'en though my child may ne'er return, 
For I can hope to meet him there. 
And all his sweet enjoyments share. 

How sweet the thought, dear angel child. 
That thou so pure and undefiled, 
Shall be thy mother's advocate. 
And meet her at the " pearly gate." 
Then, darling, pray that God will bless 
Thy mother in her dire distress. 
And waft on angel wings her prayer. 
That she may meet her darling there. 

How glorious must heaven be. 
With myriad spirits fair as thee, 



104 F1EI.D FLOWEKS. 

Oh, how transcendent must they shine. 
Who hover round the throne divine! 
And though thou art an angel bright. 
Who standeth ever in his sight. 
Oh, ask Him, in his tender love, 
To grant that we may meet above. 



I KNOW MY BABE IS HAPPY. 

IEjSTOW my babe is happy, I feel that he is blest, 
I know his gentle spirit has calmly gone to rest ; 
But, alas ! without my darling, this life is all a blank, 
And my lonely heart is aching for little "baby 
Frank ! " 

I know that God is merciful, and " doeth all things 

well," 
And wisely loved my darling when he took him 

home to dwell, 
Yet, oh ! I cannot overcome this overwhelming woe, 
Nor check the tide of anguish my soul doth overflow. 

Methinks if I could see once more that little cherub 

face, 
And clasp again that baby form in passionate embrace, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 105 

My rapture and my happiness no language could 

reveal ; 
And thou hast promised, dearest Lord, this joy my 

heart shall feel. 

I would not call my darling back, nor murmur at 

Thy will, 
But pray for resignation to praise and bless Thee still, 
That when this life is ended, I may mingle with the 

blest, 
And there enfold my angel boy in raj)ture to my 

breast. 

Then, Lord, in sweet compassion, oh, stretch thy 

loving hand, 
And still the tempest of my soul, 'tAvill cease at Thy 

command ; 
The winds and waves obey Thee, and at Thy bidding 

cease, 
Then hear my supplication, and give my spirit peace. 




THE SLEEPING CHILD. 

SLUMBER, darling, slumber, upon thy mother's 
breast, 
Nestle there thy pretty head in calm and peaceful 

rest ; 
Her loving arms enfold thee in fond and close 

embrace. 
Her lips rain gentlest kisses upon thy sleeiDing face. 
How beautiful art thou in innocent repose. 
Thy dhnpled cheeks outrivalling the lily and the rose, 
Thy dewy, parted lips, like clefted rose-bud seem, 
And all is hushed and tranquil, as infancy's sweet 

dream. 
A smile so soft and sweet o'er thy pretty face is stealing, 
Some happy thought or fancy in thy little heart re- 
vealing. 
And now a tender light beams 'neath thy half-closed 

eyes. 
As though thou wert communing with angels from 
the skies. 

106 



FIELD FLOWEES. 107 

In every careless attitude and movement do I trace, 
A sweet, peculiar charm, an ever-varying grace. 
The little, dimpled fingers clasped lightly o'er thy 

breast. 
Thou seem'st a wandering angel, dropped down on 

earth to rest. 
And then thy arms so chubby, tossed restlessly aloft, 
Thy breath, like sweetest perfume, exhaling odors 

soft ; 
And sunny ringlets carelessly tossed from thy snowy 

brow, 
A graceful, rosy cherub, or Cupid seemest thou. 
As wistfully I gaze upon thee, noting all thy charms, 
I vainly wish that ever I might hold thee in my arms, 
To soothe thy every sorrow, and shield thee with my 

form. 
From all earth's cares and trials, and fierce destruc- 
tive storm. 
And yet, my darling little one, thou canst Dct fail to 

know 
The many disappointments awaitiug all below, 
And suffer many trials, and dark, corroding care, 
Perhaps earth's fleeting triumphs, and honors also 

share. 
'Mid pleasure, joys, or sorrows, thy mother prays, 

dear child, 
That God will e'er preserve thee from everything 

defiled, — 



108 FIELD FLOWERS. 

May virtue ever shield tliee, and brightly o'er thy 

head, 
The halo of a peaceful and approving conscience shed, 
That when life's dream is over, thou 'It calmly sink 

to rest. 
As tranquilly as now thou sleepest on thy mother's 

breast. 



TO MY BABY. 



OFRANKY, my darling, my baby, 
With eyes of the violet's hue. 
There are others more beautiful, maybe. 

But none half so lovely as you. 
Though your pert little nose is so snubby, 

Your cheeks are so rosy and round, 
And your dear little fingers so chubby. 

Most always in mischief are found. 
I think you so precious a treasure, 

No greater could Heaven bestow. 
E'en though you torment beyond measure, 

Yet none are more lovely, I know ! 
So bright, so precociously winning, 

And you laugh in such innocent glee. 
Then your prattle, just only beginning, 

Is sweetest of music to me. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 109 

And even when " baby " is naughty, 

As often the darliug will be, 
And cries for " forbidden fruit," ought he 

Be ever less precious to me ? 
How can we expect a poor baby 

To always be lovely and good, 
When papa, and mamma too, maybe. 

Don't always act just as they should? 
But oh, what a charge here is given. 

This beautiful spirit to train, 
And guide him securely to heaven, 

The land without blemish or stain ! 



THE ANGEL'S INVITATION. 

/^ OLDEN wings are glancing brightly, 
vX Golden harps are sounding lightly. 
Angel voices seem to say, 
" Little brother, come away ; 
Come to brighter realms above, 
Kealms of beauty, light, and love ; 
There, secure from earth's alarms. 
Nestle in the Saviour's arms. 

Silver rivers brightly flow. 
Lovely flowers sweetly glow, 
10 



110 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Blooming bright in fadeless bowers, 
In that hajDpy home of ours. 
Music's richest, rarest strains 
Float around in sweet refrains. 
There, 'tis ever one bright day. 
Darling brother, haste away. 

Hasten from this world of care, 
Our eternal joys to share ; 
Hasten, for the Saviour waits 
To meet thee at the pearly gates. 
Never shalt thou know again 
Aught of suffering and pain. 
Beauteous is our heavenly home, 
Come, sweet little brother, come ! 

There intrude no griefs, no fears, 
Jesus wipes away all tears, 
All earth's |)leasures, all its bliss, 
Never, never equalled this. 
Heart of man may not conceive, 
Mind of man can ne'er believe. 
All the joys of our blest home. 
Come, sweet little brother, come ! " 

Low the loving summons came. 
Softly calling baby's name. 
Once his beauteous eyes he raised, 
Sweetly smiling as he gazed ; 



FIELD FLOWERS. Ill 

Then the silken lashes swept 
O'er his cheek, — and baby slept ! 
Angels bore his spirit bright 
To those realms of endless light. 



MY JEWELS. 

I HAVE a set of jewels rare, 
An empress well might covet them, 
For the gems that sparkle there 
Transcend her richest diadem. 

First, my necklace's pearly sheen 
Far excels all Eastern charms, 

Rarer necklace ne'er was seen, — 
'Tis a pair of dimpled arms ! 

Then my precious, radiant brooch, . 

How it glistens on my breast, 
Meaner gems may not encroach, — 

'Tis a little head at rest ! 

And my rings and bracelets bright, 
Oh, how richly do they shine ! 

Little fingers soft and white, 
Clasping lovingly in mine. 



112 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Oh, how priceless, oh, how dear, 
Are these jewels fair to see, 

Dark indeed would life appear, 
If these gems were lost to me. 

When I must lay my jewels down, 
Within their case of earthly clay, 

Oh, may they deck the Saviour's crown, 
And shine there gloriously for aye. 



FRANK IS DEAD. 

THY little form I here behold, 
Like marble statue, white and cold, 
Thy beautiful and spotless brow 
Is whiter, colder than the snow ; 
Thy silken lashes rest so meek, 
So lovingly on each pale cheek ; 
Those lips, so lately rosy red. 
Are pallid now, for Frank is dead ! 

Those silken lashes veil from me 

The loving heart I used to see. 

That sweetly spoke through those dear eyes, 

Which seemed a part of summer skies. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 113 

O snowy lids, in pity raise, 
And meet once more thy mother's gaze. 
No tear, no tear my eyes can shed, 
Although they say my Frank is dead ! 

Those little hands that used to twine, 

So fond, so lovingly in mine. 

And gently, sweetly smooth my hair, 

All motionless are lying there ; 

Those ever active little feet, 

That fondly ran my smiles to greet. 

Are cold and still, and, oh, they said, 

My Frank, my little Frank was dead ! 

Oh, can I be indeed awake? 

What makes my heart so strangely ache? 

Oh, let me clasp his little form, 

And hold it to my bosom warm ! 

Alas ! they will not let you rest. 

As once you did, on mother's breast ; 

And, oh, in accents strange they said, 

My little one, my Frank was dead ! 

But yet my heart cannot believe, 
Nor can this bitter thought receive. 
But still keeps watching all the while, 
To see again the baby smile. 
10* H 



114 FIELD FLOWERS. 

In vain ! in vain ! I ne'er may see 
On earth the smile so dear to me, 
But must believe the truth they said, 
That Frank, Quy Frank, is really dead ! 



WHERE IS THE BABY? 

I WALK in and out through the chamber, 
Where baby was wont to be, 
I gaze in the empty cradle. 

My baby ! oh, where is he ? 
I listen in vain for his footsteps 

Pattering over the floor, 
And look for the smile of welcome 
That greeted me at the door. 

I see all his pretty dresses 

In which he looked so sweet. 
The half-worn shoes that still retain 

Th' impression of his feet ; 
I see the useless playthings, 

I gaze at the empty chair. 
And the tears overflow like a torrent, 

Oh ! where is my baby ? — where ? 

And my heart is aching, aching 
With a weary sense of pain. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 115 

And I pine for my baby, my baby, 

With a yearning all in vain. 
How sad and still the household, 

No baby form is there. 
To fill the rooms with sunshine. 

Oh, where is my darling, where ? 



APPREHENSIOlSr. 



MY heart to-night feels heavy and dull. 
With a vague unrest at its core ; 
With strange misgivings it seemeth full. 

With wistful yearnings sore. 
A w^eary oppression o'erflows my mind. 
And shadows group thickly around. 
And terrors all shapeless, and fears undefined. 
Seem weighing me down to the ground. 

I gaze all around with a terrified glance, 

And shrink from each fanciful thought. 
That every dark corner and shadow perchance, 

Is with direful significance fraught. 
I cannot account for this dulness and pain. 

This aching of mind and of heart. 
This weary oppression of soul and of brain, 

Which sad apprehensions impart. 



116 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Pliilosopliy, reason, and wisdom in vain, 

My calmness of mind would restore, 
And argue, this strange, undefinable pain, 

I should banish and yield to no more. 
A sweet, gentle voice now vibrates on my ear. 

In accents of pity and love. 
And whispers, " look upward, religion can cheer, 

And all apprehensions remove. 
Oh, trust to her guidance, she only can calm 

The spirit's repinings and fears, 
For every affliction she giveth a balm. 

Her smile ever blesses and cheers. 



THE STRONGEST TIE THAT BOimD MY 
HEART. 

THE strongest tie that bound my heart 
To earth, was rudely riven, 
When baby Frank and I did part, 

And he went home to heaven. 
Since then my eyes are ever raised 

To his abode so fair, 
And through the fleecy clouds I 've gazed 
To see my darling there. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 117 

Through every glimmering, glittering star 

That gems the vault on high, 
Serenely shining from afar, 

I see an angel's eye. 
I hail their pure and placid rays, 

So holy, calm, and mild, 
And as within my heart they gaze, 

I see again my child. 

Methinks I see my angel one 

In those fair realms of light. 
With garments shining as the sun, 

So glorious and bright ; 
And twining round his infant brow 

A wreath of fadeless flowers. 
Which angel hands have placed there now, 

Culled from eternal bowers. 

Methinks I see him kneeling there, 

So gentle and so sweet, 
Breathing many a fervent prayer 

For me at Jesus' feet. 
Although no more to my fond heart 

I '11 clasp my baby boy, 
In heaven we '11 never, never part. 

There all is bliss and joy. 




I MISS THEE. 

I MISS thee, my darling, I miss thee, 
Each hour of the day and the night ; 
And I feel if I only could kiss thee. 

Unbounded would be my delight. 
My heart for thee ever keeps yearning, 

My darling, my beautiful boy, 
My thoughts every moment returning, 

To thee my lost treasure and joy ! 
I 'm ever reflecting about thee. 

Conflicting my hopes and my fears. 
And I feel, my beloved one, without thee, 

This world is a valley of tears. 
For thou wert the sunshine that brightened 

AVith beauty and gladness our hearth ; 
And sorrows and trials were lightened 

At sound of thy sweet baby mirth. 
In dreams to my bosom I press him, 

With such deep and exquisite bliss, 

118 



FIELD FLOWEES. 119 

And in sweetest rapture caress him, 

With many a fond, loving kiss. 
But I wake with my heart full of sorrow, 

For vacant 's the place on my breast. 
And thus must it be each sad morrow, 

For nevermore there will he rest. 
Yet his presence e'er hovers about me, 

And thrills all my being with bliss, 
I feel he is happy without me, 

In a land far more lovely than this. 
And I wait for the promised reunion 

In the beautiful land of the blest, 
Where our spirits will hold fond communion, 

And in sweetest tranquillity rest. 



THE LADY OF THE HAUNTED DELL. 

EMBOWERED by the thickest trees, 
Where twilight e'en at midday reigns, 
Where nought doth whisper but the breeze, 

Its mournful, sad, and sweet refrain, — 
Where not the faintest sound is heard. 

For all is silence most profound, 
Not e'en the gushing song of bird, 

And mystic shadows flit around. 
The grass is there more richly green, 

And forms a couch of softest down. 



120 FIELD FLOWERS. 

All glistening with a silver sheen, 

Like rays of light from Luna's crown. 
No flowers bloom in that lone spot. 

Except the little heather-bell, 
Which, with the sweet forget-me-not, 

Alone grow in the Haunted Dell. 
No human foot for years had pressed 

That wild, enchanted solitude, 
For man was there a stranger guest, 

None dared within its shade intrude. 
For wild the legend was that told, 

How young and gallant Lionel, 
The fearless and the rashly bold, 

Had strayed within that Haunted Dell 
Fatigued with hunting all the day, 

Had sought repose beneath the trees, 
To while the sultry hours away. 

And court the gentle, balmy breeze. 
There, while in sweet repose reclined, 

The unseen fingers of the air. 
The spirit of the western wind 

Toyed with the dark locks of his hair. 
When suddenly sweet music stole — 

From out the ground to him it seemed • 
And thrilled with ecstasy his soul, 

So ravishing, he thought he dreamed. 
All breathlessly, with lips apart, 

He listened, with eyes opened wide. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 121 

When turning round, with sudden start, 

Beheld a lady by his side, 
All robed in shimmering white ; so fair ; 

Long tresses of soft misty gold 
Glittering bright with jewels rare 

Of priceless worth, and wealth untold. 
So radiant the vision seemed, 

Emitting rays of dazzling light, 
With mystic splendor richly gleamed, 

Too brilliant far for mortal sight. 
Long on the vision did he gaze, 

With speechless awe and wild surprise, 
Until his heart was all ablaze 

With love, emitted from her eyes. 
With stately step and regal mien, 

And trailing robes, she now drew nigh. 
O Lionel ! well had it been 

If thou had'st quickly turned to fly ! 
Her lips unclose, and from them gush 

A song, to mortal ears too sweet. 
Which caused his youthful blood to rush 

Like quicksilver, swift and fleet. 
A golden cup of jewels bright 

Within her little hand held she. 
And sang, " My brave and gallant knight, 

Come, drink a fairy toast with me. 
To love and valor, beauty rare. 

To gallant deeds that ladies prize, 
11 



122 FIELD FLOWERS. 

To valiant knights and maidens fair, 

May love unite them in sweet ties ! 
Come, drink the fairy pledge with me. 

And we shall be most richly blest ; 
For I thy willing bride will be. 

And in thy arms will fondly rest." 
She kissed the cup with rosy lijDS, 

Till foamed the bright, ambrosial wine, 
And while the nectar sweet she sips. 

Her love-lit eyes in his did shine. 
All joyfully he took the cup. 

Knelt at her feet, with rapture thrilled. 
But ere the contents he could sup. 

His trembling hand the red wine spilled. 
How changed the scene that greets him now ! 

The lovely maiden disappears; 
A hideous hag, with threatening brow. 

With curses wild assails his ears ; 
AVhile distant thunder mutters loud. 

And lightning rends the sky in twain, 
Frightful spectres round him crowd. 

Mocking him with fierce disdain. 
Half paralyzed with horrid fear. 

He sinks unconscious on the ground, 
Surrounding scenes all disappear ; 

And in this dismal state was found. 
Far distant, when the morning broke, 

By some kind peasant passing by ; 



FIELD FLOWERS. 123 

But ne'er to reason's sway he woke, 

A maniac he, with vacant eye ! 
And oft in trembling tones he 'd tell 

Of that bright lady dazzling fair, 
Who met him in the Haunted Dell, 

And of her cup with jewels rare ; 
Of how she sang, in siren tones, 

A song that stole away his heart. 
And then most touchingly he owns 

A spell which never will depart. 
Until a dark, soul-thrilling awe 

Is felt by all who list the tale 
Of all he felt, and heard, and saw. 

Within that dim and lonely vale. 
And sometimes, music's sweetest notes 

Will every heart with rapture thrill, 
From out the Dell at twilight floats. 

When everything is calm and still. 
Then piercing shrieks, so fiercely wild. 

Will issue from the haunted grot. 
Till neither woman, man, nor child 

Will venture near the dreaded spot. 
And oft the peasant lowly speaks 

Of poor, ill-fated Lionel, 
The tale will tell with paling cheeks, 

" The Lady of the Haunted Dell." 




THE SAILOK-BOY'S DREAM. 

HEIGHT'S mantle was shrouding ocean's wild 
Xi breast, 

The bright stars were fitfully gleaming, 
Reflecting their forms in each feathery crest. 

Till with stars the blue billows were teeming. 
A proud stately ship, with canvas all spread. 

Was speeding, home-bound, o'er the billows, 
And the sailor-boy slept in his rude hammock bed, 

Bright dreams flitting over his pillow. 

His brown curls are tossed with the unstudied grace 

Of nature, all aid from art scorning, 
And the smiles stealing over his sun-embrown'd face, 

Speak the fancies his slumber adorning. 
His dreams are of home, and the loving ones there, 

His fondly beloved, aged mother. 
Of his sweet, blue-eyed sister, so gentle and fair, 

His noble, high->=pirited brother. 

124 



FIELD FLOWERS. 125 

And now a more tender expression reveals 

His thoughts are with one even dearer, 
For whom his fond heart a deep passion conceals ; 

Her image glows brighter and clearer ; 
Yes, he dreams of the maiden who dwells in the cot, 

Embowered 'mid woodbine and roses, 
His fancy goes back to that beautiful spot. 

Where the dear little maiden reposes. 

In slumber, her sweet, gentle voice does he hear. 

Calling his name in the gloaming. 
And the tones seem as real to his slumbering ear. 

As when, hand in hand, they were roaming. 
His arm is again round her tenderly thrown, 

His love-tale so eagerly telling, 
And now she has promised to be all his own : 

With rapture his bosom is swelling. 

Then he bids her adieu at the little white gate ; 

From her tresses a curl doth he sever, 
Ne'er thinking that stern and inscrutable fate 

Had decreed they should part there forever. 
He clasps her once more to his wild heaving heart 

While the stars are so tenderly gleaming. 
He presses her lips, then awakes with a start, 

Alas ! has he only been dreaming ? 

Yes, sailor-boy, wake, for your bright dream is past. 
Around thee the tempest is howling, 
11* 



126 FIELD FLOWEES. 

The fiend of destruction now rides on the blast, 
And darkly the storm-clouds are scowling. 

No time now for dreaming of loved ones and home, 
Farewell to thy hammock and pillow. 

The ship staggers wildly amid the mad foam, 
And is hurled by each wild heaving billow. 

The sailor-boy awoke ! that bright dream was his last. 
He woke to hear the wild wind shriek, and snap the 

gallant mast ; 
To see the angry ocean, terrific in his power, 
Ablaze with lurid lightning, and black clouds' sullen 

lower ; 
Awoke to see the elements, conflicting in their wrath, 
Like mighty giants wrestling on ocean's trackless path ; 
To feel the proud ship tremble, and thrill in every 

nerve ; 
Alas ! no earthly power that brave ship can preserve. 
Uplifted on each billow, then hurled in deep abyss, 
Oh, what a lifetime crowds itself in moments like to 

this? 
One agonizing thought of home, one silent, fervent 

prayer. 
From hearts that thrill with anguish and terrible 

despair, — 
The ship careens and trembles, and then — one 

mighty shock ! 
O God ! all hope is over, she's stranded on a rock ! 



FIELD FLOWERS. 127 

And deep beneath old ocean, amid its mad'ning roar, 
The ship and crew lie buried, their last sad voyage 

o'er. 
Alas ! for that fond mother, within her distant home, 
Awaiting for the noble son who nevermore will come. 
Alas ! for that dear sister, that young devoted brother, 
Who nevermore his hand will clasp. And, oh, 

there's yet another — 
She with the golden tresses, the lovely cottage maid, 
Whose blushes had responded to the tender things 

he'd said ; 
Who waited for his coming from that distant foreign 

land. 
To bless his fond affection with her willing heart and 

hand ; 
Who waits, and waits with hope deferred, and sick- 

'ning sense of dread. 
For one who at that moment was sleeping with the 

dead. 
Oh, who will tell the story to those loving hearts at 

home? 
How the son, the brother, lover, lies deep 'neath 

ocean's foam ; 
The coral caves his bridal-bed, the mermaid's song 

his dirge. 
And o'er his young devoted head the ever restless 

surge. 



128 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Sleep on, sleep on, brave sailor, 'mid ocean^s caverns 

deep, 
The wailing of tliy loved ones can ne'er disturb thy 

sleep. 
But, oh, there is a promise, to stricken hearts how 

sweet ! 
A blissful haven waiteth, where the loved and lost 

shall meet. 



A NOON-DAY PICTURE. 

THE rays of the bright noon-day sunshine were 
beaming 
On a rich glowing landscape, beneath its smile 

gleaming 
With radiance of beautiful light unsurpassed, 
Which appeared to the fancy too gorgeous to last. 
The fleecy light cloudlets, like fairy illusion, 
Were chasing each other in playful confusion ; 
Then sailing serenely o'er heaven's blue dome. 
Like vessels with canvas all spread, speeding home. 
The flowers all radiant in beautiful bloom, 
AVere gratefully breathing delicious perfume, 
And bowing their gay graceful heads to each other, 
Hailing each beautiful blossom a brother; 
Then bending above the clear streamlet that laves 
Their own charming forms in its silvery waves, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 129 

Admiring their grace in the ^\'>ater reflected. 
Blushing, as guilty of being detected ; 
Conscious of all their perfections and graces. 
Conversing together with sweet smiling faces ; 
Coquettishly wooing the zephyr-like breeze, 
As it kissed their sweet lips and rustled the trees. 
The green rolling meado'ws were sprinkled all over 
With bright little blossoms of red and white clover; 
While millions of buttercups, yellow as gold, 
Their treasures so gorgeous ap]:)eared to unfold. 

Within a cool grotto by locust-trees shaded. 
Whose tender green branches with blossoms were 

laded, 
Within a white arbor, all covered with trellis. 
And clambering roses, and vines w^hich seemed 

jealous 
Lest any rude sunbeam, perhaps, should intrude 
T' invade its retirement and sweet solitude, 
On a couch of soft masses, besprinkled with roses. 
What fxiiry-like figure so sweetly reposes ? 
Thick wavy tresses of golden hair flowing. 
Half veiling the soft rosy cheek richly giowing 
With health's brilliant beauty, and slumber's soft 

flushes; 
Anon flitting over it love's rosy blushes. 
As dreams of an alDsent one through her braira g^idej, 
Dyeing those cheeks with a lovelier tirle; 



130 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Tumultuously heaving the snowy-white breast, 
As though strange emotions were then its wild guest ; 
For it rose and it fell like the waves of the billow, 
As she restlessly tossed on her green mossy pillow. 
Ruby lips parting in sweet smile disclosing, 
Rarest of pearls in their casket reposing ; 
The violet eyes, with their bright merry flashes, 
Were veiled by the fall of their soft silken lashes, 
Which seemed, as they slept on the delicate snow. 
To cast a dark shade on the crimson below. 

While thus, in her innocent slumber reposing, 

The vines parted softly, the picture disclosing 

To one who seemed spellbound, enchanted, enchained, 

Stood there like a statue, until he regained 

His fast-fleeting senses ; a moment before her 

He stood, then knelt humbly, as though he 'd adore 

her. 
She murmurs a name ; ah, how his eyes glistened ! 
Now, was it not shameful to think that he listened ? 
Then, while he is bending so fondly above her, 
Let me try to describe this audacious young lover. 

A figure formed to "' threaten or command," ■ 
Yet lead an erring brother by the hand ; 
" A form on which each god did set his seal," 
A glorious type of manhood to reveal ; 
Ti-ue dignity held there her regal throne. 
And marked tlio man a subject of lier own ; 



FIELD FLOW E US. 131 

A broad white brow, where jetty ringlets clusLei-, 
Outrivalling the raven's sheen in lustre ; 
Dark eyes, too piercing in their splendor bright. 
Save when subdued by love's more tender light ; 
Firm, chiselled lips, void of deceit or guile. 
Where lingered many a rare and genial smile. 
Which seemed to throw a halo o'er his face. 
And add another charm and tender grace. 

Long since had they ^^arted, in sorrow and tears, 
Nor had met through the course of long wearisome 

years. 
Fond lovers from childhood, in earliest youth 
Had they pledged their affection and plighted their 

truth. 
But, alas ! he was not the stern guardian's selection, 
For his wealth but consisted in wealth of affection, 
Till, fired with ambition, he vowed that his name 
Should soon be enrolled in the annals of fame ; 
That then he 'd return, in the face of all scoffers, 
With fabulous wealth overflowing his coffers. 
Many rich suitors her hand sought to gain. 
But she coldly repulsed them with proudest disdain, 
And turning from all, would fly to her bower. 
In dreams of the absent beguiling each hour. 
Thus to-day had she sought its delicious retreat, 
Indulging bright fancies and reveries sweet, 
Casting aside all that rest might encumber. 
Had revelled in fancv, then sank in sweet slumber, 



132 FIELD flowp:rs. 

Till feeling his presence by some mystic charm, 
Awakened to find herself clasped in his arm. 
What exquisite rapture her loving heart thrilled, 
When fondly he told her his vows were fulfilled, 
That now he could claim her in honor and pride. 
His own loyal-hearted and beautiful bride. 
Long, long they sat thus, all unconscious of time. 
Appearing to dwell in a magical clime, 
And weaving bright plans for their whole future life, 
When, sorrows forgotten, he 'd call her his wife. 
Their happy young fancies joy seemed to enthrall. 
Till the soft veil of twilight descended o'er all ; 
For Sol had retired to his couch in the West, 
And nature was tranquilly sinking to rest ; 
Hushed was the sweet, gushing song of the bird. 
And scarcely a leaf by the soft air was stirred ; 
The flowers had partaken their evening repast, 
Bowing their heads in soft slumber at last ; 
The stars, like bright sentinels watching on high, 
Had silently taken their posts in the sky. 
The lovers, then roused from their fancies so bright, 
With sweet thoughts of the morrow, then whis]i(^red 
"o;ood nio;ht." 



i^ 

-y^^ 




LENT, NOT GIVEN. 

HOW can I lay my darling down to sleep 
Within the earth's cold bosom, dark and deep? 
How can I leave him in his dreamless rest, 
The green turf heavy on his little breast ? 
How can I lay, in that dark, narrow bed, 
That beautiful and sunny little head. 
With all its wealth of silken ringlets bright. 
That ever were my pride and fond delight ? 
Oh, never could I sink at night to rest. 
Unless that head was pillowed on my breast ; 
My loving arms enfolding that dear form 
Close to my bosom, tenderly and warm ! 
Oh, bitter, bitter are the tears that fall. 
As all that happy past I now recall ! 
I feel again those dimpled arms entwine, 
And feel the pressure of his lips on mine ; 
The touch of dainty fingers on my cheek, 

12 ]?.3 



134 FIELD FLOWERS. 

And hear again the words he tried to speak. 

Oh, how my stricken heart now wildly beats, 

As memory the happy past repeats 

Thns brino;ino; forth some cherished little token, 

To pierce the heart already crushed and broken. 

A gloomy pall the weary earth enshrouds. 

And all the future wrapped in murky clouds. 

But, lo ! a heavenly messenger is sent, 

Who says, "Thy darling child was only lent; 

For God had right to take his own again, 

E'en though thy soul w^as filled with bitter pain." 

Oh, weak and wayward heart, do not rebel, 

Dost thou not know, " He doeth all things well ; " 

And even though on earth my joy is gone, 

I '11 humbly say, O Lord ! Thy will be done ! 



LOST MAGGIE. 



A MOTHER bent o'er the inanimate clay, 
The world-weary spirit was summoned away. 
Yet leaving those features, so faultlessly fair. 
Indelibly stamped with the seal of despair. 
The thin little fingers, so waxenly white, 
Were clenched in their agon}^, rigidly tight ; 
Long, tangled masses of soft, silken hair, 
Wliose glittering splendor seemed mockery there, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 135 

Were streaming around her in wavelets of gold, 
And lovingly seemed the wan form to enfold. 
The mother, with eyes full of anguish so wild, 
Gazed tearlessly down on the face of her child. 

'Twas years since she'd looked on her innocent face 
And form of such matchless and exquisite grace; 
Long years, since that terrible mid-summer day, 
She knew that her darling had left her for aye; 
Since that evening she 'd watched by the low cottage- 
door. 
All vainly for one who would come nevermore. 
And her thoughts travelled back to that beautiful 

spot. 
Where they 'd happily dwelt in the vine-covered cot, 
When Maggie had sported in innocent play. 
As free as the birds and as joyous as they. 
How sweet had it been, when toiling was o'er, 
To sit with her child at the low cottage-door. 
To watch the bright sun sinking calmly to rest 
On his rose-colored couch, far away in the West ; 
To watch the first star of the evening arise, 
Till the whole starry host was ablaze in the skies. 
Then they spoke in low accents of heaven and God, 
Of the pathway so thorny the Saviour had trod ; 
His infinite love, and His mercy for all, 
No matter how frequent or grievous their fall. 
The dark, hazel eyes, so wistfully bright, 
Through glad, happy tears shone with tenderer light ; 



136 FIELD FLOWEKS. 

Then, as slie knelt humbly in innocent prayer, 
She looked like an angel, so lovely, so fair. 

Thus passed happy years, and she grew like a flower, 
Its petals unfolding more lovely each hour. 
Increasing in beauty and exquisite grace, 
A painter might choose for a seraph her face. 
She laughed with the merry, the happy, the glad. 
And wept with the sorrowful, cheering the sad ; 
Equally welcome to cottage and hall, 
The pride of the village, the darling of all. 
The idol, the life of that mother's fond heart. 
Her darling's caresses new life could impart ; 
No labor discouraged, no trial depressed, 
K Maggie was happy, the widow was blessed. 

How bright was the morning, how radiant the scene. 
That beautiful May-day, when Maggie was queen ; 
A picture most dazzling, exquisitely rare. 
Was Maggie the May-queen, so gentle and fair. 
Her mother's fond fingers had lovingly twined 
The ringlets that floated as free as the wind; 
No jewels adorned her, her ornaments flowers ; 
Her crown, brightest roses from fairest of bowers ; 
A vision of fairy-like beauty she stood. 
In all the fresh graces of young maidenhood. 
Both lofty and lowly, together were seen, 
Their homage to pay to the beautiful queen. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 137 

Oh, well had it been for the innocent child, 
Had she fallen there lifeless, as yet undefiled, 
Where fond ones could weep, as they stood by her 

tomb, 
And the flowers she cherished, in beauty there bloom. 
Their comfort could be, as they wept o'er the sod, 
Another pure angel had gone back to God ! 
But who, 'mid the wisest, could then have foreseen 
The dark fate awaituig their beautiful queen ! 

The dancing was gayest, and merry the song. 
When one unexpectedly joined with the throng : 
The heir of the castle, at home scarcely known. 
Who years had passed travelling over the zone. 
A man dark and stately, of haughtiest mien, 
Who gazed in surprise on the lovely young queen. 
In many strange lands had he wandered, but ne'er 
In castle or court seen a beauty so rare ; 
And he vowed to himself that this sweet wild- wood 

flower 
Should blossom for him, alone in his bower. 
A man of the world, in Jove's stratagems skilled, 
What wonder his vow was so quickly fulfilled? 
He wooed, and she listened — the story is old, 
Yet mournful a story as ever was told ! 
He bore her away to a far distant shore. 
And Maggie was seen in the village no more ! 

12* 



138 FIELD FLOWERS, 

What words can describe the lone widow's despair? 

One night was sufficient to whiten her hair ; 

And since that dire moment she -never had smiled, 

But wept without ceasing the fate of her child ; 

And eve after eve would she sit at the door, 

To watch for the one who would come nevermore. 

Thus rolled away five weary years, yet no word 

From the erring young wanderer ever was heard, 

Until, one stormy night, the sad message came. 

That Maggie was dying of grief and of shame ! 

At once did the mother, in terrible haste, 

Set off on her journey, no food could she taste ; 

But, seated apart, with head lowly bowed, 

Alone, all alone, in the bustle and crowd. 

Alone in the city, with scarcely a trace, 

After hours of long search, she at length found the 
place, 

And followed the guide up a rickety stair, 

To see once again her lost idol ; but where ? 

Could that be her Maggie f that pitiful wreck ! 

The hair in damp masses all over her neck ! 

The features contracted with anguish and pain . 

Was it thus she was fated to meet her again? 

They said her last words were, " Oh, mother will come, 

Oh, take me to mother, please let me go home. 

If my poor, aching head I could lay on her breast, 

I know I could peacefully, tranquilly rest; 

For mother would pardon and love me the same, 

In spite of the^e years of dark sorrow and shame ; 



FIELD FLO WEES. 139 

She sweetly would whisper of Infinite Love, 
An angel of mercy my mother wouhl prove. 
If only my mother were here at my side, 
My grief and repentance to her I 'd confide. 
And oh ! she would kiss me again as of yore, 
When I sat by her side, at our own cottage-door. 
Oh, how could I list to that magical tone, 
And leave my dear mother alone, all alone ! 
But she would forgive me, and love me the same. 
In spite of desertion and terrible shame." 
Then fainter, and weaker, and lower the tones. 
And piteous to hear were the heart-rending moans, 
Her fast glazing eyes ever fixed on the door, 
She died, saying, " Mother will come nevermore ! " 

The heart-stricken mother no longer could weep. 
But the sobs in her breast sounded fearfully deep. 
And she murmured in tones, oh, how touchingly 

sweet ! 
"Long years I have waited, my darling to meet. 
At last I behold thee, O terrible fate ! 
My beautiful Maggie, too late ! oli, too late ! " 
Then she kissed o'er and o'er the lips pallid and cold, 
The marble-like brow and the tresses of gold. 
Clasped the dead form to her wild heaving breast, 
Saying, " Rest here, my little one, tranquilly rest." 
Then whispering low, in her dull heedless ear, 
" Wake up, Maggie darling, thy mother is here ! '* 



140 FIELD FLOWERS. 

The by-standers, callously hardened for years, 
Whose eyes seldom wept, were now blinded with tears, 
And silently stole from the room, one by one. 
Leaving the mother and daughter alone. 
No eye but the Saviour's could see all she felt, 
As there by her heart's fallen idol she knelt. 
Console and sustain her, O merciful God ! 
Thou lovest all those who " pass under the rod." 
She knelt there all night by the rude pallet bed. 
And morning still found her there, motionless, dead ! 
O'er Maggie's cold lips she had breathed her last 

breath. 
For man was less merciful even than death. 
Man's cruelty mother and daughter did sever. 
But death reunited the parted for ever. 
Together they buried the pure and defiled. 
One grave held the mother and Maggie her child ! 





LEGEND OF SISTER GENEVIEVE. 

HOW lovely was the evening hour, 
Each bird had sought its leafy bower, 
Twittering softly through the trees, 
A good-night to the rustling breeze. 
The flowers had patiently held up 
Each tiny variegated cup, 
Catching sweet refreshing dews 
All glittering with rainbow hues, 
Then bending low their heads, had quaffed 
The sweet exhilarating draught 
Of nectar which the gods distilled, 
Till every tiny fibre thrilled ; 
Then, drowsy with the rich repast. 
Had gently gone to sleep at last. 
Wafting on the odorous air 
The incense of their vesper prayer. 
The sky, so mystically blue, 
Was tinted with a richer hue, 

141 



142 FIELD FLOWERS. 

As though king Sol had left the tinge 
Still trailing from his golden fringe 
Reflected from the glowing west, 
Ere sinking on his couch to rest; 
Yet 'neath his gorgeous curtains' fold 
Still streamed those yellow rays of gold ; 
Till gentle Twilight, soft and gray, 
Attendant on the God of Day, 
With dainty hands the curtains close, 
And leaves the King to calm repose. 
That mighty monarch laying down 
His sceptre and his royal crown ; 
Then Twilight, smiling with delight, 
Sank softly on the breast of Mght. 

A holy stillness seemed to brood 
In this unbroken solitude. 
Till, faintly stealing on the air, 
The sweet bells chimed for vesper prayer ; 
While from the convent, gray and old, 
The organ's grand old music rolled : 
Its harmonies now rose, now fell, 
• AVith sweet, sublime, majestic swell ; 
And pealing out o'er hill and plain, 
The echoes caught the rich refrain, 
Until the air, the earth, the sky, 
Vibrated with the melody. 
Now, floating through the cloisters dim, 
Ascends the nuns' sweet vesper hymn, 



FIELD FLO WE KS. . 143 

And one would think, angelic choirs 
United voice and golden lyres. 
Such joyful strains: Ave Maria; 
Jesu dolce ; O Jesu Mia ! 
Now, from their bright, celestial spheres, 
The brilliant train of stars appears. 
Announcing with their twinkling eyes. 
Their queen, fair Luna, now would rise. 
Preceded by the Evening Star, 
Appears the gorgeous, silvery car. 
In which the Goddess of the Night, 
Reclining in her beauty bright. 
Throws back her veil of silver sheen. 
Night's beautiful, majestic Queen. 
Her Maids of Honor crowd around. 
To make their obeisance profound ; 
And thus her grand, triumphant march 
She makes through Heaven's boundless arch. 
Earth sinks to slumber 'neath her beams. 
And revels in delicious dreams. 

So hushed the scene, no sound was heard, 
And scarcely was a leaflet stirred ; 
Yet, close beside the postern gate 
A dark-robed figure seems to wait ; 
The only living form, he stood, 
In all that holy solitude. 
Long had he lingered 'neath the shade 
A lordly oak-tree thickly made, 



114 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Until, impatient at delay, 

He muttered words too dark to say. 

Ah ! now a shrinking form he spied, 

Who flees in terror to his side, 

Fluttering there in wild alarm, 

He wildly clasps within his arm. 

A smile o'er his dark visage stole, 

The base reflection of his soul. 

Her low-bent head he fondly raised, 

A]id on the tear-stained features gazed ; 

The while he soothed, in accents low, 

The maiden's overwhelming woe. 

Her half-resisting form he led, 

Where, 'neath a ruined little shed, 

Within a dense and gloomy wood. 

Two coal-black horses tethered stood. 

The frightened girl drew back dismayed; 

But ere another word was said, 

She 's mounted, reins within her hand, 

Both flying o'er the flowery strand. 

One anguished glance she backward threw, 

To peace and innocence, adieu I 

Like troubled vision of the night. 

They quickly disappeared from sight. 

And on this scene the fair moon smiled. 

As though no demon e'er beguiled. 

As though no fiend could thus deceive 

A triLsting child like Genevieve. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 145 

The purest of that holy throng, 
No thought she 'd ever had of wrong ; 
A little, tender, trusting dove, 
A being made for heaven's love. 

A little child, she first had sought 

The shelter of the convent meek ; 
No tender parent-love had taught 

The infant lips sweet words to speak. 
Upon life's dark and troubled waves 

A little waif, by sad fate thrown — 
The mother slept 'mid nameless graves, 

No father's name could be her own. 
But soon the gentle sisterhood 

All loved the child with fondest love, 
And taught her all they knew of good, 

Till soon she sought her thanks to prove. 
Could angels stray from realms of bliss, 

Or homes of heavenly splendor leave, 
'Twould seem a spirit like to this, 

Appeared the little Genevieve. 
'Twas her sweet task to cull the flowers 

That decked dear Mother Mary's shrine ; 
And oft she lingered there for hours, 

Inspired with rapture most divine. 
And year by year she fairer grew 

So pure, so innocent and good : 

13 K 



116 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Beloved by all the country too, 

The idol of the sisterhood. 
With what chaste joy she made her vows, 

The Order's holy garb assumed, 
Of heaven's King the chosen spouse, 

No sweeter earth-flower ever bloomed. 
And yet in Eden's garden came 

The serpent Avith his subtle power, 
Alas ! for Genevieve's pure fame, 

The murky cloud began to lower. 
For one had sought that convent old, 

Allured by all the country's tale, 
Resolved by daring scheme so bold. 

To sever from her native vale 
This w^ild-wood flower, that bloomed so fair, 

If she should j^lease his sated taste. 
He saw the beauteous blossom rare, 

And soon resolved no time to waste ; 
Eve listened to the tempter's tale^ 

That was the secret of her fall. 
Else would his subtlest schemes all fail, 

Xor could his sophistries enthrall. 
He drew a picture rich and rare, 

Of all the world's alluring charms. 
Of how 'twould welcome one so fair. 

In rapture to its sheltering arms. 
And Genevieve, poor, simple dove. 

Imagined nought so foul ami base, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 147 

Nor dreamed of any kind of love 

That could with shame suffuse her face. 
How vain for tongue or pen to tell 

Of all his scheming and his art ; 
Of how he cast his baneful spell, 

And won from God her trusting heart. 
That fated night she sadly fled, 

She first sought Mary's holy shrine ; 
" O sweetest Mother," low she said, 

" Thy keys I here awhile resign ; 
When I the glorious world have seen, 

For which my foolish heart doth yearn, 
Then, dearest Mother, heavenly Queen, 

To thy sweet service I '11 return." 
And then she steals, with mufiled tread, 

The tears fast flowing from her eyes, 
Half sinking with a nameless dread. 

She with her recreant lover flies. 

Fifteen years have come and gone, 

Working many a wonder strange ; . 
And as the fleeting months sped on, 

Bringing many a woful change — 
To none more sad than Genevieve ; 

For but a few brief months had passed, 
Ere she had found how men deceive. 

And learned her dreadful doom at last. 
Th' ensnarer, who this dove decoyed, 

Soon wearied of his precious game ; 



148 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Her purity of soul destroyed, 

She wakened to a life of shame. 
Adown the vortex did she drift, 

And drifted on in sheer despair, 
Nor sought her sin-stained soul to lift 

Again to God in contrite prayer, 
Until dire sickness overtook 

And laid her on a bed of pain ; 
Her gay companions all forsook. 

She thought of God and peace again. 
And of that distant convent home, 

The chapel, and dear Mary's shrine, 
Where she so oft was wont to come 

At morn and eve, fresh flowers to twine ; 
Of that sad night she there had knelt, 

At Mary's feet her keys to lay ; 
A flower had dropped from Mary's belt. 

And she had kej^t it to this day. 
She vowed, if God her life would spare. 

To travel, barefoot, to that place, 
Her gold among the poor to share. 

In penance stern her sins t' efface. 
Her prayer was heard, and strength returned 

She hastened forth without delay. 
To that dear spot for which she yearned. 

The smiles of Mary cheered the way. 
At length the weary leagues are o'er. 

She spies the convent-tower at last ; 



FIELD FLOWERS. 149 

What thought she of her feet so sore, 

The joyful tears were flowing fast ; 
The twilight shadows softly crept 

O'er field and forest, hill and dale, 
The birds and insects sweetly slept, 

And all was tranquil in the vale. 
The convent-bells' soft, solemn chime 

Awakened memories thick and fast ; 
Before she dreamed of guilt and crime, 

Of all that wretched, wretched past. 
And now the vesper hymn arose 

In waves of music on the air. 
The tear of sweet contrition flows. 

She kneels, and joins the evening prayer. 
Oh, how th' angelic choirs rejoice. 

The dead has come to life again ; 
With golden lyre and rapturous voice. 

They sing a joyous, happy strain. 
And one, with radiant beauty fraught, 

Her " Guardian Angel," now draws near. 
And in a golden chalice caught 

That holy, penitential tear. 
Soon op'd the little postern door, 

She knew at once sweet sister Clare, 
Who at that hour would feed the poor. 

From out the convent's scanty fare. 
With shrinking step, and head low bow'd, 

Poor Genevieve at length draws near, 
13* 



150 FIELD FLOWERS. 

And mingles with the waiting crowd, 

Her heart oppressed with many a fear. 
Her shrinking form the nun espied, 

"You suffer much, poor child, I think." 
Then, drawing closer to her side, 

" You need some food and cooling drink.' 
The wanderer said, in faltering tones, 

" I would inquire of Genevieve, 
Who, fifteen years ago, had flown." 

" You are a stranger, I perceive ; 
Our sweet, angelic Genevieve, 

So holy, and so rich in grace. 
She is perfection, we believe, 

For heaven's reflected in her face ; 
But since you knew her once, poor child, 

Go to the chapel, she is there ; 
You '11 find her just as sweet and mild, 

Go, ask her blessing and her prayer." 
With w^onder and amazement rent. 

Scarce daring e'en to raise her eyes, 
She to the chapel quickly went. 

And there — imagine her surprise — 
A sister at the altar stands, 

With youthful form, of matchless grace, 
A bunch of keys within her hands. 

She turns — her own familiar face — 
Not as at present, wasted, worn, 

With scarce a trace of beauty left, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 151 

Half fainting, desolate, forlorn. 

Of all her youthful charms bereft ; 
But as she stood long years ago. 

Ere she had heard the tempter's voice, 
Or drank that cup of bitter woe, 

Or made, that night, the fatal choice. 
She stood awhile in mute surprise. 

Then, sinking slowly to her knees, 
" O Mary ! Queen of heaven ! " she cries, 

"Approach, my child, take back the keys. 
My child, I 've kept your secret well. 

And all your daily tasks have done, 
And no one knows you ever fell. 

Or that poor Genevieve had gone. 
So put your ' habit ' on again, 

You '11 find it in your little cell ; 
Forget your life of guilt and pain, 

And here in sweet seclusion dwell." , 
Then, with a bright, maternal smile, 

So full of tenderness and love, 
She hovered in the air awhile, 

Then vanished to the realms above. 
Poor Genevieve for hours knelt 

In ecstasy almost divine ; 
Hosannas softly seemed to melt, 

And thrill the air at Mary's shrine. 




LOUIE'S NINTH BIRTHDAY. 

"VriNE years old to-day, dear Lou ! 
X 1 Had ever time such flight ! 
It scarcely seems so long ago. 

As I sit here to-night, 
Since first your little baby form 

Was laid upon my breast, 
And little cheek so soft and warm, 

To mine was closely pressed. 

But now so many years have flown, 

This baby-girl of mine 
Almost to maidenhood has grown, 

For Louie now is nine ! 
A sunbeam has she been to me, 

Since first her baby voice 
Rang gayly out in infant glee, 

And made my heart rejoice. 

162 



FIELD FLOWEKS. 153 

Throughout the future may she prove 

My comfort and my bliss, 
As worthy of a mother's love, 

As while I 'm writing this. 
Oh, may each future birthday see 

This darling girl of mine. 
From every stain and guile as free 

As now a child of nine. 



THE SMILE. 

AN ACROSTIC. 

HAVE you seen a little fairy ? 
Always happy, ever smiling, 
None than she more light and airy, 

None so gay or so beguiling ; 
Always merry, bright, and gay — 
Have you seen this 'witching fay ? 

Gracefully her nut-brown curls 
Eipple o'er her snowy brow, 

Eyes like diamonds, teeth like pearls, 
Bewildering her smile, I trow. 

Lovely, beaming, free from guile, 

Enchanting is her winning smile ! 




THE OLD CLOCK. 

THE old clock ticks in the upper hall, 
Where the sunbeams brightest fall 
Through the vine-wreathed casement high, 
And flickering shadows softly lie. 
A century has passed away 
Since first it told the time of day ; 
Standing in the self-same place, 
Faded now its quaint old face. 

How well I mind my infant glee, 
When grandfather lifted me high to see 
The little bells in the belfry tower, 
That rang out merrily every hour. 
And all my childhood's happy time 
Was counted by their joyous chime. 
Which seemed like fairy music clear. 
And to every heart the " clock " was dear. 

154 



FIELD FLOWERS. 165 

My grandfather said his grandsire brought 
The antique clock from a foreign court, 
The time his fair young bride and he 
Together sailed o'er the deep blue sea. 
To his noble home he brought with pride 
The curious clock and his lovely bride, 
And each generation seemed to prize 
That " clock " as the " apple of their eyes." 

Time passed, and many children fair 
Ran up and down the oaken stair, 
And childish laughter, oftentimes • 
Would mingle with the " fairy chimes," 
As oft and oft they stood to hear 
The silvery bells so sweet and clear ; 
Then as the chimes rang gayly out, 
Their voices joined in gleeful shout. 

And to the hall oft strangers came, 
To see this " clock " of wondrous fame, 
And many an honored guest beside, 
Would fill those spacious rooms so wide. 
In mirth and dancing, music sweet, 
The hours would chase with glowing feet : 
And then those merry bells would say, 
" Rejoice, rejoice, while yet you may ! " 

And many a low-breathed, thrilling word, 
And vows of love, the clock had heard ; 



156 FIELD FLOWERS. 

For the old bay-window's cushioned seat, 
Was oft a place for converse sweet. 
The " lovers " took no heed of time, 
Until they heard the "fairy chime," 
And to their fond young hearts it seemed 
The clock with rapture fairly teemed. 

And many a " bride," in robes of white, 
The clock would pass on her bridal night, 
Ere leaving her childhood's happy home. 
To cross, perchance, the ocean's foam. 
A tender glance oft backward threw. 
As if to say, " Old friend, adieu ! " 
And the dear old clock would seem to say, 
" God speed ! God speed ! " in a friendly way. 

Thus passing years great changes wrought, 

To all both pain and pleasure brought. 

And many who the old clock wound, 

Are slumbering 'neath the " grassy mound." 

As each " cold form " was carried past, 

Joys and sorrows o'er at last, 

The old clock softly seemed to sigh, 

" Good-bye, old friend ! good-bye, good-bye." 

Now all are scattered far and wide, 
Alone I dwell in " stately pride ; " 
Yet in the watches of the night, 
Methiuks I see those faces bright. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 157 

And rustling robes, and cliildish feet 
Adown the oaken staircase fleet, 
And the sweet old bells now softly sigh, 
" None left, none left, but you and I ! " 



THE PAST AND THE PRESENT. 

MY thoughts to-day are roaming o'er 
The happy hours of days of yore. 
Dwelling with the blissful past, 
Whose pleasures were too bright to last. 
Life to me was then as gay 
As a genial summer day. 
Until care and sorrow's blight 
Changed the day to darkest night. 

Oh, how bright the morning beamed, 
Life with rosy pleasures teemed. 
Flowers round my pathway strewn. 
Fragrant as the rose of June. 
Blue and cloudless seemed the sky. 
Soft and sweet the zephyr's sigh. 
Breathing out the rich perfume 
Of a thousand flowers in bloom. 

Could I think that radiant morn, 
Which had seemed so bright in dawn, 
14 



158 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Soon would close in clouds of gloom, 
Darker, sadder than the tomb ? 
Could I think those flowers fair, 
Held beneath a canker there — 
That the zephyr's gentle breath 
Exhaled odors worse than death ? 

Yet from out the murky skies, 

See a little star arise, 

Breaking through the clouds so drear ; 

And see ! now other stars appear ! 

Now the sun begins to shine, 

All the clouds to silver line, 

Hope this wondrous change has wrought, 

Sweetest resignation brought. 



WATCHING THE RAIN. 

I STAND here idly gazing, 
Tapping the window-pane. 
My weary eyes upraising. 

Watching the falling rain. 
And I think, as the sullen shower 

Descends in a steady pour, 
And the clouds so darkly lower, 
Of joys that will come no more. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 159 

The wintry twilight looming, 

Like a sable pall descends, 
And seems like the dark entombing 

Of once familiar friends. 
And still the rain-drops quiver, 

On the cold, bare earth they fall, 
The naked tree-tops shiver. 

Bending their heads so tall. 

Oh, that dull, monotonous patter, — 

How weird is the sound ? — 
Chilling my heart with its clatter, 

Soaking the sodden ground. 
So I turn from the window sio-hinr;:, 

To sit by the cheerful fire. 
My craving heart denying 

Its importunate desire. 

The coals are brightly burning, 

The wind sounds fiercely shrill. 
And the past, with its wistful yearning, 

Comes back to haunt me still. 
And dear ones, gone forever, 

Tenderly gaze on me ; 
On the other side of the river, 

Familiar forms I see. 

My heart keeps aching, aching, 
In the dim and silent room, 



160 FIELD FLOWERS. 

And my spirit seems partaking 
Of the fast increasing gloom. 

And still the sullen shower 

Comes down with ceaseless pour, 

And the murky storm-clouds lower, 
As though they would break no more. 

Even thus the past so wasted, 

To my weary heart doth seem ; 
And the joys that once I tasted, 

Have vanished like a dream. 
My sun has set in the darkness. 

To rise again no more. 
And still the sullen shower 

Comes down with ceaseless pour. 



EAGGED LITTLE JOE. 

LITTLE JOE was a ragged boy, 
About the age of ten, 
Who never owned a book or toy. 

So sad his fate had been ; 
No father's hand had e'er been laid 

In blessing on his brow, — 
No mother's smile a heaven made. 
For ragged little Joe. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 161 

A little waif upon the world, 

By adverse fortune thrown, 
On charity's cold mercies hurled, 

No home he 'd ever known. 
From out his old and tattered hat 

The tangled curls peeped through. 
Yet merry-hearted for all that 

Was ragged little Joe. 

Many were his varied labors, 

Busy all day long, 
Running erraiids for the neighbors, 

Whistling a song. 
Then, v»dth shovel on his shoulder, 

Trudging through the snow, 
Never little lad was bolder 

Than poor little Joe,. 

Selling oft the daily papers, 

Merry all the while. 
Cutting many pranks and. capers. 

With a roguish smile. 
Through the holes of worn-out leather 

Peeped each purple toe. 
Yet happy, spite of wind and weather. 

Was poor little Joe I 

Many years have passed away, 
And Joe had struggled on^ 
14 * L 



162 FIELD FLOWEES. 

Working, saving, day by day, 

Until the goal was won. 
Now stately ships and treasures great, 

Warehouses in a row, 
Their master find, oh, happy fate! 

In ragged little Joe. 

Though living now in princely style, 

He ne'er ignores the past. 
But greets with a gentle smile 

Each ragged, poor outcast ; 
Assists with purse and words of cheer. 

And tells in accents low. 
The story of his life so drear. 

As ragged little Joe ! 



I DREAMED WE WERE YOUNG AGAIN. 

I DREAMED we were young again, Willie and I, 
And together we stood by the river. 
Whose beautiful ripples flashed merrily by. 

In joyous yet tremulous quiver. 
The stars, how they twinkled with mischievous glee, 

And mirthfully danced on the billows ; 
While the tender young moon looked serene as 
could be. 
And peeped o'er the tops of the willows. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 163 

How bappy we stood there, that sweet summer night, 

Nor heeded the beauties around us. 
Our hearts were o'erflowing with lovelier light, 

A spell even sweeter had bound us. 
Our hands sought each other in loving embrace, 

Your words were so tender and thrilling, 
I felt your warm breath stealing o'er my face, 

As I listened, so shy, yet so willing. 

You were going, you said, to a far distant land, 

To win there both fortune and glory ; 
Methinks I yet feel the warm clasp of your hand, 

As you uttered again the old story. 
I could see in the moonlight your handsome face 
- glowed. 

As you said, not e'en death should divide us, 
If I would be true ; then my heart overflowed, 

And the dashing waves seemed to deride us. 

And then as I felt your warm kiss on my lips. 

My fond heart vibrated with pleasure, 
And yet a black cloud seemed the moon to eclipse. 

As you called me your darling ! your treasure ! 
We lingered there fondly, that beautiful night, 

The moon through the willow-trees glancing. 
The future invested with magical light, 

And the bright waves kept merrily dancing. 



164 FIELD FLOWERS. 

We vowed to be constant and true, and it seemed 

We both were reluctant to sever, 
And then — I awoke, for I only had dreamed, 

For that night we parted — forever. 
And long, weary years have rolled onward since then, 

They told me your wedding was " splendid," 
Your name now is famous and honored 'mong men, 

And I — well, my dreaming is ended. 



THE REFORMED DRUNKARD'S CHILD. 

nyrO more in tattered rags I go, 
±\ My head with shame low bowed ; 
No more I hurry, frightened, through 

The jostling, jeering crowd. 
My father now the " pledge " has signed, 

And rum has given up. 
Oh, joy! he has fore'er resigned 

The fatal, poisoned cup. 

« 
Our happy home no terror dreads, 

From lurking care is free, 
A snowy cloth the table spreads, 

When father comes to tea. 
Joy beams in mother's lovely face, 

Her heart is free from pain, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 165 

The wretched past leaves scarce a trace, 

She 's almost well again ! 

You scarcely now could recognize 

My father's manly form, 
So kind and clear his loving eyes, 

His heart so true and warm. 
And after tea is cleared away, 

We gather round the fire 
In happy talk and laughter gay, — 

He 's all we could desire. 
And oh, we pray so fervently 

That God the " cause" may bless, 
That other homes like ours may be 

Soon filled with happiness. 



MEMORY'S GRAVES. 

I'VE been among the graves to-day. 
And wept above each mound, 
Where deep my buried treasures lay, 

Beneath the silent ground. 
No snowy tablet marks the spot, 

No monument is there, 
No flowers except forget-me-not, 
And many a silent prayer. 



166 FIELD FLOWERS. 

The first o'er which I sadly leant, 

And wept the bitterest tears, 
Was that of precious hours misspent, 

And weary, wasted years. 
And oh ! how often have I seen 

From that lone grave arise, 
The spectre pale of " might have been," 

With sad, reproachful eyes. 

Within one grave was love betrayed 

And confidence misplaced, 
And broken friendships there are laid. 

Their memories ne'er effaced. 
Sweet, glowing thoughts, firm faith and trust, 

Anticipations dear. 
Which long since crumbled into dust, 

And all lie buried here. 

There where the grass grows thick and rank. 

And noxious weeds abound. 
One day my shattered idol sank 

Beneath the treacherous ground. 
For ah ! that worst of pain was mine. 

Which time can ne'er allay. 
To place an idol on a shrine. 

And find it nought but clay. 

And oft at twilight hour I come 
To muse above each grave. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 167 

Where retrospection's flowers bloom, 

And memory's waters lave. 
O wasted life, O broken chain, 

Whose links corrode with rust, 
Yet grieving now is all in vain, 

Ye 've crumbled into dust ! 

Oh, there are many graves beside, 

Where sleep the silent dead, 
Where aching hearts their griefs will hide, 

And joys forever fled. 
Yes, rosy lips may gayly smile, 

Bright eyes may flash with glee. 
And yet the heart be filled the while 

With graves of memory. 



A PORTRAIT. 



SERENE and gracious, suave and bland, 
Methinks 1 see him sitting there, 
With every grace at his command. 

So dignified, so calm his air. 
A mind full stored with noble thought, 

With rare and keen intelligence. 
With every kindly impulse fraught. 
And useful fund of common sense. 



168 FIELD FLOWERS. 

A stately and majestic form, 

With every manly grace replete ; 
A heart with true affection warm, 

Of truth and honor high the seat. 
His frosty hair, like lion's mane. 

Is tossed back from his ample brow, 
Disclosing there a mighty brain, 

To which all weaker minds must bow. 

And eyes — oh I let me dip my pen 

In deepest wells of eloquence ; 
Inspire me, O ye muse, and then 

I '11 undertake the task immense. 
The mighty theme my mind absorbs, — 

To render justice I desire, — 
Yet words may ne'er describe those orbs, 

With all their bright, promethean fire. 

The eagle and the dove unite, 

With all the former's lurid splendor ; 
Piercing, thrilling, keenly bright, 

And all the latter's light so tender. 
Now flashing like the polished steel, 

Unchained lightnings in their glance, 
Then brimming o'er with mirth, reveal 

How fun and wit can make them dance. 

Anon, so calm and clear their rays, 
So filled with genial sympathy, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 

A true and tender heart betrays, 
From every base emotion free. 

Thus varied feelings quickly pass, 
Emotions grave, or gay, or wise, 

Reflect, as in a magic glass, 

Their image in those wondrous eyes. 

Oh, many are the fervent prayers 

That grateful hearts to heaven send, 
For many a one his bounty shares, 

To all mankind he 's proved a friend. 
My feeble voice I would unite, 

That heaven his life may richly bless 
With earthly joy and pleasure bright, 

And with eternal happiness. 



169 



"ONLY ME!" 

TWO fair children graced the household 
One endowed with beauty rare. 
Eyes the hue of early violets. 

Glistening waves of golden hair. 
Fondest names and sweet (caresses 
She received, and lavish praise; 
Not a wish denied the " beauty," 
With her smiles and winning ways. 
15 



170 FIELD FLOWERS. 

The other, quiet, pale, and gentle, 

Shrinking from all notice, shy, 
Sensitive and tender-hearted, 

With a plaintive, soft, brown eye. 
Through the hall, one day, the patter 

Of dear little feet was heard, 
And the mother's voice called sweetly, 

" Hither come, my little bird ! 

" Haste to ' mamma,' pretty darling ! "- 

(Silent now, those footsteps free,) — 
Then a quivering voice responded, 

" 'T isn't ' darling ' — onhj me ! " 
How that mother's heart awakened, 

At that answer, meek and mild, 
To the wrong she had inflicted 

On her patient, gentle child. 





RETROSPECTION. 

SOFT and low a voice is ringing, 
Sadly ringing in my ears, 
Memories of the past 'tis bringing, 

Memories of by-gone years. 
Whispering of the many treasures 

I had gathered one by one. 
Sweet, entrancing, fleeting pleasures, 
Vanished ere the day was done. 

Now the voice is softly telling 

Of the happy long-ago. 
When my careless heart was swelling 

With the rapture youth may know ; 
When sweet hope the clouds had painted 

With gay tints of every hue ; 
When life's morn was yet untainted, 

Flashing still with early dew. 

Now the tones are tinged with sadness. 
With a mournful cadence ring, 

171 



172 FIELD FLOWERS. 

While recalling former gladness, 
Which has fled, but left a sting ; 

When, all thoughtlessly, I 'd trifled 
With a wealth of human love, 

And a heart's best treasure rifled 
Merely my own power to prove. 

Retrospection ! pale-faced maideu, 

I would fain your voice forget, 
As you come, with memories laden, 

Followed by sad-eyed Regret. 
Mournful twain ! I. bid ye vanish, 

Former scenes I '11 not recall. 
Memories of the past I 'd banish, 

Would I might forget them all I 

Yet my heart one balm receiveth, 

As you whisper low to me, 
" Noble deeds the past retrieveth, 

What 'might have been,' still yet may be. 
" Labor then with zeal untiring," 

So thy low voice seems to say, 
"To aims exalted e'er aspiring. 

Then regret will pass away." 

Welcome then, pale Retrospection, 

With thy salutary stings, 
Bringing to the heart reflection, 

Bearing healing on thy wings. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 173 

Time will bring a glad fruition, 

When atonement has been done, 
Then fulfil thy noble mission, 

And the guerdon shall be Avon. 



LEAVING SCHOOL. 

HOW thrills the fond, reluctant heart, 
From early ties to sever, 
From school companions dear to part. 

And school-girl life forever. 
Anticipation colors bright 

The future now before us, 
And yet a cloud obscures its light, 
As this regret comes o'er us. 

And now resounds the parting bell, 

" Adieu, sweet, hallowed treasures, 
We must take a last farewell 

To childhood's joys and pleasures. 
We pass the mystic boundary line 

Dividing child and maiden, — 
How sweet associations twine. 

Their tendrils richly laden." 
15* 



174 FIELD FLOWERS. 

We fain would liuger, fondly still 

Upon the threshold standing, 
Ere toiling up life's weary hill 

To view the scene commanding. — 
For all the sweet, alluring joys, 

The future seems presenting, 
"VVe know, have oft their base alloys. 

And fain we 'd turn relenting. 

But see ! bright hope, with snowy hand, 

To fairy realms invites us. 
And waving high her magic wand, 

Now dazzles and delights us. 
Then onward, with exultant heart. 

To gain the goal before us. 
The hope of victory strength imparts, 

And heaven is smiling o'er us. 

The stores of useful knowledge gained. 

Will through our lives befriend us, 
When bright success has been attained, 

And duties filled attend us. 
Our noble mission we '11 fulfil, 

O'ercoming earthly leaven, — 
We '11 ever journey upward till 

We re-unite in heaven. 



^jM^ 




DARLING! 

DARLING" has the fairest face 
That ever artist painted ; 
Nature lavished every grace, 

Which art has never tainted. 
Lilies slumber on her brow, 

And on her cheeks the roses, 
With a sweet, delicious glow. 
Their beauteous bloom discloses. 

" Darling " has most wondrous eyes 

E'er set mortals dreaming ; 
Like a glimpse of summer skies, 

With all sweet feelings teeming. 
Veiled by fringes golden-brown. 

Their brightness half concealing, 
As she shyly glances down, 

A tender grace revealing, 

175 



176 FIELD FLOWERS. 

" Darling " has soft, flowing hair, 

Like maids in legends olden ; 
Sunbeams love to nestle there, 

All glittering and golden, 
Shimmering in waves of light, 

Dazzling all beholders, 
Rippling in their lustre bright, 

Adown her snowy shoulders. 

"Darling" has a brighter smile 

Than ever blessed a mortal ; 
Every sorrow 't would beguile. 

Like rays from heaven's portal. 
Never has it failed to charm, 

With its witching splendor — 
E'en a stoic 't would disarm, 

So winning, arch, aiid tender. 

" Darling " has a low, sweet voice, 

Like song-birds' richest trilling. 
Making every lieart rejoice 

With its accents thrilling. 
When amid the sad 'tis heard. 

Sweet consolation bringing, 
'Tis unsurpassed by song of bird, 

Or richest, rarest singing. 

" Darling " has the gentlest heart 
E'er to woman ofiven. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 177 

Free from every guileful art, 

Pure and true as heaven. 
A radiant sunbeam " Darling " seems, 

Enhancing every pleasure ; 
And every heart e'er fondly deems 

She 's heaven's rarest treasure. 

Few could that " winning way " resist 

Of grace and nature blended ; 
Before her smile, like morning mist, 

All opposition 's ended. 
With sweet, unconscious, childlike grace, 

She wields a magic power ; 
You 'd say, to see her lovely face. 

She 's nature's fairest flower. 



SUPPOSE. 



SUPPOSE you 'd reared a flower 
Of species rare, 
And watched it grow each hour 

More brightly fair, 
Yet found, with fatal power 
A canker there ! 

Suppose this flower you 'd cherished 
Day after day, 
M 



178 FIELD FLOWERS. 

With fondest care had nourished, 

Must now decay, — 
Its bloom and beauty perished, 

And gone for aye. 

Would you all vainly grieving, 

Still sadly weep, 
Your troubled heart relieving 

In anguish deep, 
This blossom so deceiving, 

Still fondly keep ? 

Or with true wisdom rather 

Pluck up the flower, 
A new and fresh one gather 

Of sweeter power, 
To bless in wintry weather 

Your little bower ? 

Suppose the vows once plighted 

Cast back again ; 
Your heart so trusting, slighted 

With cold disdain; 
Would you, in gloom benighted, 

Still nurse your pain ? 

Ah, no ! with noble scorning 
I 'd cast aside 



FIELD FLOWERS. 179 

The love whose false adorning 

Was once my pride, 
Yet proved, like mists of morning, 

All scattered wide. 

My heart would seek another 

More pure and true, 
The false love quickly smother 

Without ado, 
Methinks that any other 

Would do so, too. 



BUBBLES. 



OFT, when quite an infant. 
All free from cares and troubles, 
My favorite amusement 

Was blowing soapy bubbles ; 
I watched them upward floating. 

With such unbounded glee, 
They seemed of fairy splendor, 
Most beautiful to me. 

When childhood fleeted from me. 
And maidenhood was mine, 



180 FIELD FLOWERS. 

The airy bubbles still retained 
Their bright, illusive shine ; 

How gorgeously they glittered 
With rainbow-tinted beams, 

How eagerly I watched them, 
My bubbles and my dreams. 

How many brilliant projects 

On airy pinions rise. 
And soar, like fairy bubbles, 

Above the azure skies. 
With eager heart all thrilling, 

We watch their bright ascent, 
Their gay, prismatic colors 

With hope and fancy blent. 

The bubbles of my childhood. 

Though soon dissolved from view, 
Yet filled my heart with pleasure, 

For what they were I knew. 
The bubbles of maturer years, 

Though airily they soar. 
As frail and evanescent prove, 

As in the days of yore. 




BLUE VIOLETS. 

BLUE violets ! how I love them ! 
With their delicate perfume, 
Exhaling from the greensward 
Where modestly they bloom. 
Their sweet and tender voices 

Are heralds of the May, 
And every heart rejoices 
To hear the words they say. 

" No more the icy fetters 

Of Winter chain the Earth, 
But lovely flowers are waiting 

To spring in vernal birth. 
The skies are blue and smiling, 

In joy the young birds sing. 
While we, with humble voices, 

Proclaim th' advance of Spring, 
16 181 



182 FIELD FLOWERS. 

" And youthful hearts we gladden ; 

For us they gayly look 
Beneath the dewy grasses, 

And by the ripj^ling brook. 
The sick and sorrow-laden, 

The suffering we cheer. 
In gentle tones we tell them 

To hope, for Spring is near." 

^ Blue violets, blue violets, 

AVe meet them everywhere 
In prodigal profusion. 

They scent the balmy air. 
They seem like hidden virtues, 

Exhaling odors pure, 
And tender, clinging memories 

Which evermore endure. 

Once, a gentle little maiden, 

With eyes like violets meek, 
Went with me to the green wood. 

Blue violets to seek. 
We gathered blue-eyed treasures, 

I twined them 'mid her hair, 
She seemed, in her young beauty, 

A violet most rare. 

I told her I would gather 
This flower of all the rest, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 

To gladden all my future, 
And bloom upon my breast. 

Her dewy eyes were drooping, 
My hand in hers was twined ; 

And thus my lovely violet 
Within my heart was shrined. 

We fondly love blue violets. 
So fragrant, pure, and meek. 

And of the day we gathered them, 
Most fondly do we speak. 

'Yet one we have more lovely, 
With curls of golden hair, 

And eyes just like her namesake, 
Our little Violet rare. 



183 



DRIFTED. 



YES, the scene has widely shifted, 
I awaken with a start 
To the fact that we have drifted 

Slowly, surely far apart. 
Once we fancied we could never 

Live without each other's smile, 
Yet, in spite of each endeavor. 
We are drifting all the while. 



184 FIELD FLOWERS. 

How our lives so strangely altered, 

Neither you nor I could tell, 
Yet our hearts both weakly faltered, 

Loath to speak the last farewell. 
Though fond words your lips were saying, 

Yet your smile was strangely cold ; 
I could feel your heart was straying, 

Ere the fatal truth was told. 

I could feel the dark clouds stealino:, 

Stealing o'er us, gray and chill. 
Coming changes thus revealing, 

Though you thought you loved me still. 
Tender vows once fondly plighted, 

Now^ how meaningless they seem. 
Ties which once our hearts united, 

All have vanished like a dream. 

When, in future, we are meeting, 

Calmly, coldly, who could tell, 
Witnessing our courteous greeting, 

Once we 'd loved each other well ? 
Yes, we 're drifting far asunder, 

Deep and wide the gulf between. 
Often wearily I wonder. 

How the future "might have been." 

Yet my heart can ne'er upbraid you, 
All regret were worse than vain. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 185 

If I could, I 'd not persuade you, 
Love once fled comes not again. 

Yes, the dream is rudely broken, 
All dissolved the magic spell, 

Now the last sad word is spoken, 
We are drifting on. Farewell ! 



THE SAILOR'S STORY. 

THE day was such a one as this, 
When merely to exist is bliss ; 
Delicious was the balmy air, 
For Spring was smiling everywhere. 
Dame Nature looked so fresh and gay. 
Decked out in all her new array. 
The trees within their trunks had kept 
This wardrobe bright while Spring had slept. 
The fleecy cloudlets sailed on high 
Like fairy shallops through the sky ; 
And all the streamlets danced in glee, 
From Winter's icy bondage free ; 
Oh, how they babbled all the day. 
Like merry children at their play. 
A twittering now and then was heard 
From some nest-building, busy bird, 
16* 



186 FIELD FLOWERS. 

I had requested " little May," 
To roam with me this lovely day 
The woods in quest of violets, 
Of all the flowers our pet of pets. 
We gayly chatted as we went. 
Her thoughts upon the flowers intent, 
But mine were all intent on May, 
Nor could from her an instant stray. 
For long I 'd loved her, long and well. 
Yet ne'er my tale of love could tell. 
It seemed to me she might have guessed 
Why I should seek her from the rest; 
No village frolic would I share, 
If sweet " May-blossom " was not there. 
And, oh ! how savage was my glance, 
If others claimed her in the dance. 
How oft I 'd gazed in her blue eye^. 
And thought them bluer than the skies. 
For in their depths of dewy blue 
Her tender, guileless heart shone through. 
And oft, I thought, her glowing cheek 
Of sweet emotions seemed to speak. 
This day it seemed a richer tide 
Those cheeks to deeper crimson dyed ; 
As though within my eyes there were 
A something that was never there, 
And soul-impassioned glances caught. 
With deep and thrilling meaning fraught, 



FIELD FLOWERS. 187 

Until her silken lashes swept 

The roses that beneath them slept. 

The morrow we were doomed to part, 

And yet sweet gladness thrilled my heart ; 

For as the flowers I helped to pull, 

It seemed with fond emotions full. 

And there and then the story old, 

Yet ever new, again was told. 

My darling vowed her love to me. 

And said, when I came back from sea, 

She 'd proudly stand up by my side, 

To be my true and loving bride. 

How time then passed, we reckoned not, 

To search for flowers we both forgot ; 

We envied not the blest above, 

For we had found the " flower of love." 

She wore my mother's ring of pearl, 

I severed one long sunny curl. 

And fondly placed it on my breast : 

It never left its place of rest. 

With broken voice, and many a sigh. 

We parted with a last " good-bye." 

But, oh ! how bright the future seems. 

When viewed through hope's enchanting beams. 

My heart o'erflowed with rapturous joy, 

I dreamed no future could destroy. 

Years passed before we met again 
Within that sweet secluded glen. 



188 FIELD FLOWERS. 

Yes, years! for I'd been tempest-toss' d, 

And word had come that all were lost ! 

Ye^, all were lost ! and only I 

Had reached the shore ; — how could I die? 

How could I yield to black despair, 

When May, my May, was waiting there ? 

I breathed a silent prayer to heaven, 

And superhuman strength was given. 

I reached a lone deserted isle, 

And waited there a weary while. 

The bitter hardships that I bore 

Upon that barren, rocky shore. 

The stoutest heart it might appall, 

If I were to relate them all. 

How great my transports of delight, 

The morn a vessel hove in sights «. 

Oh, joy ! she saw my signal-flag 

I 'd planted on a lofty crag ! 

And for the island swiftly bore, — 

My weary watch at last was o'er I 

Oh, then, what rapture filled my breast, 

I seemed above all mortals blest ! 

Forgot were sufferings, weary years, 

My eyes o'erflowed with happy tears. 

One thought alone my bosom filled, 

One memory every fibre thrilled. 

Well, soon I stood just as of yore, 

My hand upon the cottage-door, 



FIELD FLOWEKS. 189 

My hot brain reeled, my heart beat fast, 
Was May still faithful to the past? 
Oh, would she greet me as of yore 
With rapture to my native shore ? 
She must ! she must ! The faintest breath 
Of doubt were even worse than death. 
I held my hot and throbbing brow, 
Nor knew what I had feared till now ; 
This great suspense I could not bear. 
How close and stifling seemed the air ! 
Although the cottage-garden bloomed 
With lilacs, which the air perfumed : 
The scent of lilacs ever brings 
That scene, with all its bitter stings. 
I listened ! all was silent, hushed. 
My blood like lava madly rushed. 
I entered — sank upon a chair — 
Oh, what a vision met me there ! 
Within a little cradle-bed 
Reposed a tiny golden head ; 
My horror-stricken eyes could trace 
The lineaments of May's sweet face. 
My blood in frenzy boiled and leapt, 
I 'd given worlds could I have wept. 
I gazed and gazed, then saw no more. 
But sank unconscious on the floor. 
The vision met my waking sight 
Was May's own face all ghastly white, 



190 FIELD FLOWERS. 

With such a terror in her eyes, 

I tried in vain to speak or rise ; 

^he blood gushed from my lips, I sank 

Back on the floor ; then all was blank ! 

Nine weary weeks had-passed away, 

My life hung on a thread, " they say," 

Ere once again I tried to frame 

In accents weak that precious name. 

Her eyes looked into mine, and then 

I knew that hojDe was mine again. 

I needed not a single word 

To know that heaven my prayers had hear( 

She whispered low, in thrilling voice, 

Sweet words which made my heart rejoice. 

Then health and vigor soon returned, 

And all the past I fully learned. 

My May ne'er ceased to hope, she said. 

And for my coming watched and prayed, 

Resolved if I were lost at sea, 

To cherish still my memory. 

About a month ago, one niglit, 
A messenger, all pale Avith fright. 
Knocked loudly at the cottage-cloor. 
And summoned May to see once more 
A dear and widowed girlhood's friend. 
Who fast approached her final end. 
As May bent o'er the dying-bed. 
And low, sweet words of comfort said. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 191 

She bathed the pallid brow so fair, 

And smoothed away the clinging hair, 

The sufferer faintly, sweetly smiled. 

And pointed to her little child. 

The babe within May's arms she laid, 

In faltering accents feebly said : 

" I cannot die in peace, unless 

You soothe this hour of dire distress, 

Consent my orphan child to take, 

And God will bless you for its sake." 

May clasped the infant to her breast ; 

The dying mother both then blessed ; 

A sweet smile o'er her features stole, 

She yielded back to God her soul. 

A mother's love sweet May supplied. 

And vowed to do so till she died. 

All joyful my consent was given, 

We deemed the mother smiled from heaven ; 

Then soon we sought the shady glen, 

And whispered loving words again. 

Her little hand is clasped in mine. 

Her eyes through happy teardrops shine ; 

I whisper in a thrilling tone, 

My darling May, my own, my own ! 

Oh, yes, the clouds have gone from sight, 

Our sunny sky is blue and bright, 

The village girls are culling flowers, 

And joyously we coUnt out the hours, 



192 FIELD FLOWERS. 

For garlands bright, will Sunday mom 
In festoons gay the church adorn, 
And roses there will strew the way, 
For then I wed my little May ! 



WHEN! 



WHEN life seems a burden too heavy to bear, 
When trials and crosses are seen everywhere, 
Thy Father in heaven is lovingly near. 

When loved ones seem coldly thy fondness to meet. 
When friends we have cherished prove full of deceit, 
Oh, fly to the Saviour, and weep at His feet. 

When bright expectations prove worthless and vain, 
When others regard thee with haughty disdain, 
Confide unto Jesus thy heartache and pain. 

When pleasures seem fleeting away from the view. 
When life's sweet allurements seem vanishing too, 
Oh, turn unto heaven, that only is true. 

AVhen the mind and the spirit, the heart and the soul, 
Are breasting the billows that over them roll, 
How vain is the striving were not heaven the goal. 

Then take up thy crosses, light burdens they '11 prove, 
If borne in the spirit of patience and love, 
They '11 safely conduct thee to glories above. 



TWO YEARS OLD TO DAY! 

ANOTHER year has now been told 
Since baby Lu was one year old, 
Another year has passed away, 
And Louie 's two years old to-day ! 

Those pretty eyes of baby Lu, 
So wonderfully, deeply blue, 
Sparkle still more brightly gay, 
For Louie 's two years old to-day ! 

Those shining rings of silken fold 
Have changed their hue to deeper gold. 
And round her brow in ringlets play, 
For Louie 's two years old to-day ! 

Those rosy lips could scarcely frame. 
One year ago, a single name. 
Now many wondrous things can say, 
For Louie 's two years old to-day ! 

Those tiny feet a year ago 
Were very tottering and slow. 
But now they briskly run and play, 
For Louie 's two years old to-day ! 

A year ago we thought her quite 
A prodigy so very bright ; 

U N 193 



194 FIELD FLOWERS. 

But now intelligence has sway, 

Our Louie 's more than bright to-day. 

O may the future brightly shed 
Rich blessings on that golden head, 
And love encircle with its ray 
Our pet, just two years old to-day ! 



THREE YEARS OLD TO-DAY. 

TO LOUIE. 

TIME hath many changes wrought in his never- 
ceasing flight, 

Pleasures, griefs, and sorrows brought, clouds of woe, 
and sunshine bright. 

Many hearts with pleasure rife, only one short year 
ago. 

Now have passed fore'er from life, 'neath the cold 
earth lying low ; 

Youth and age alike have gone from this ever- 
changing earth. 

Replaced by others in life's dawn, fresh and jnire 
from Nature's birth. 

Time has brought amid the train of joys and bless- 
ings, ills and grief, 

Dear child, thy natal day again, three birthdays 
crown thy life so brief. 



FIELD FLOWERS. 195 

More storm than sunshine thou hast known, my little 

one so pure and meek, 
Suffering marks thee for her own, and robs the 

roses from thy cheek. 
O darling, sad it makes my heart, the canker in the 

bud to see, 
And all its fresh young bloom depart, the playfulness 

of infancy. 
My very life I'd yield again, if I could but thy 

health restore. 
Could free thy little form from pain, and see thee 

blooming as of yore. 
Thou seem'st now a lily pale, once full of mirth and 

merry play, 
For earth too delicate and frail, so languid now, erst 

bright and gay. 
O gracious Lord, this boon bestow, in mercy grant a 

mother's prayer, 
O Thou from whom all blessings flow, my heart's 

petition deign to hear; 
Yet grant me resignation still, through every trial 

Thou may'st send, 
To bow to what may be Thy will, and prove submis- 
sive to the end. 
Sweet Jesus, ever meek and mild, bestow one bright 

and cheering ray, 
And bless my gentle, suffering child, my darling 

three years old to-day. 



GOOD-BYE. 

GOOD-BYE ! good-bye ! now we must part, 
How time appears to fly ! 
The pearly tear-drops quickly start, 

When comes the sad good-bye. 
Good-bye, good-bye, how happy seem 

The hours when thou art nigh. 
But, oh ! they vanish like a dream. 

And we must say good-bye ! 
Good-bye, good-bye, nay, linger still ! 

Why must we part, oh ! why ? 
How painfully the heart doth thrill. 

When loved ones say, good-bye ! 
Good-bye, good-bye, oh, many an ache. 

And many a smothered sigh. 
Will rend the heart which seems to break. 

To hear the last good-bye ! 
Good-bye, good-bye, this fleeting world 

Will disappear for aye. 
It bears up on its flag unfurled 

The saddest word, good-bye ! 
Good-bye, good-bye, there is a land 

Where bright is every eye, 
Wliere loved ones clasp each other's hand. 

Nor fear the dread good-bye ! 

196 



